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IJL 

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UilM    |Z5 

1 1^1^ 


U   11.6 


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CIHM/ICMH 

Microfiche 

Series. 


CIHIVI/ICIVIH 
Collection  de 
microfiches. 


Canadian  Institute  for  Historical  IVIicroreproductions  /  Institut  Canadian  de  microreproductions  historiques 


Technical  and  Bibliographic  Notes/Notes  techniques  et  bibliographiques 


The  ( 
toth 


The  Institute  has  attempted  to  obtain  the  best 
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copy  which  may  be  bibliographically  unique, 
which  may  alter  any  of  the  images  in  the 
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the  usual  method  of  filming,  are  checked  below. 


D 


n 


D 


n 


Coloured  covers/ 
Couverture  de  couleur 


I      I    Covers  damaged/ 


Couverture  endommagie 

Covers  restored  and/or  laminated/ 
Couverture  restaurie  et/ou  peilicul6e 


□    Cover  title  missing/ 
Le 


titre  de  couverture  manque 

Coloured  maps/ 

Cartes  giographiques  en  couleur 

Coloured  ink  (i.e.  other  than  blue  or  black)/ 
Encre  de  couleur  (i.e.  autre  que  bieue  ou  noire) 

Coloured  plates  and/or  illustrations/ 
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Bound  with  other  material/ 
RellA  avec  d'autres  documents 


rri    Tight  binding  may  cause  shadows  or  distortion 


D 


along  interior  margin/ 

La  re  liure  serr^e  peut  causer  de  I'ombre  ou  de  la 

distortion  le  long  de  la  marge  intirieure 

Blank  leaves  added  during  restoration  may 
appear  within  the  text.  Whenever  possible,  these 
have  been  omitted  from  filming/ 
II  se  peut  que  certaines  pages  blanches  ajoutAes 
lors  d'une  restauration  apparaissent  dans  le  texte, 
male,  lorsque  cela  6tait  possible,  ces  pages  n'ont 
pas  6t^  filmtes. 

Additional  comments:/ 
Commentaires  supplAmentaires; 


L'Instltut  a  microfilm^  le  meilleur  exemplaire 
qu'ii  lui  a  6tA  possible  de  se  procurer.  Les  details 
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une  image  reproduite,  ou  qui  peuvent  exiger  une 
modification  dans  la  methods  normale  de  filmage 
sont  indiqute  ci-dessous. 


D 
D 
D 
0 
D 

D 
D 
D 

D 


Coloured  pages/ 
Pages  de  couleur 

Pages  damaged/ 
Pages  endommag^es 

Pages  restored  and/or  laminated/ 
Pages  restaurtos  et/ou  peiliculAes 

Pages  discoloured,  stained  or  foxed/ 
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Pages  ddtachies 

Showthrough/ 
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Comprend  du  materiel  suppi^mentaire 

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ensure  the  best  possible  image/ 
Les  pages  totalement  ou  partiellement 
obscurcies  par  un  feuiilet  d'errata,  une  pelure, 
etc.,  ont  iti  filmtes  ii  nouveau  de  fa^on  i 
obtenir  la  meilleure  image  possible. 


The 
poss 
of  th 
filmii 


Origi 

begii 

the 

sion, 

othei 

first 

sion, 

or  ill! 


The! 
shall 
TINU 
whici 

Maps 

differ 

entir« 

begin 

right 

requii 

meth( 


This  item  is  filmed  at  the  reduction  ratio  checked  below/ 

Ce  document  est  film*  au  taux  de  rMuction  indiquA  ci-dessous. 

10X  14X  18X  22X 


26X 


30X 


y 

3 

12X 


16X 


20X 


24X 


28X 


32X 


lire 
details 
ues  du 
t  modifier 
ger  une 
I  fiimage 


The  copy  filmed  here  haa  been  reproduced  thanica 
to  the  generoaity  of: 

Dana  Porter  Arts  Library 
University  of  Waterloo 

The  imagea  appeering  here  are  the  beat  quality 
poaaible  conaidering  the  condition  and  legibility 
of  the  original  copy  and  in  keeping  with  the 
filming  contrect  apecif icationa. 


Original  copiea  in  printed  paper  covera  are  filmed 
beginning  with  the  front  cover  and  ending  on 
the  laat  page  with  a  printed  or  illuatrated  imprea- 
aion.  or  the  back  cover  when  appropriate.  All 
other  original  copiea  are  filmed  beginning  on  the 
firat  page  with  a  printed  or  illuatrated  imprea- 
aion,  and  ending  on  the  laat  page  with  a  printed 
or  Illuatrated  impreaaion. 


^ea 


L'exemplaire  film*  fut  reproduit  grice  A  la 
giniroait*  de: 

Dana  Porter  Arts  Library 
University  of  Waterloo 

Lea  imagea  suivantas  ont  4tA  raproduitaa  avac  la 
plua  grand  soin.  compte  tanu  da  la  condition  at 
de  la  nettet*  de  I'axemplaira  film*,  at  nn 
conformity  avac  lea  conditiona  du  contrat  de 
fiimage. 

Lee  exemplairea  originaux  dont  la  couvarture  an 
papier  eat  imprim*e  sent  filmte  an  commandant 
par  la  premier  plat  at  an  tarminant  soit  par  la 
dernlAre  page  qui  comporte  une  amprainte 
d'impreaaion  ou  d'illuatration,  soit  par  la  second 
plat,  aalon  le  caa.  Toua  lea  autrea  axamplaires 
originaux  sont  filmAa  9n  commandant  par  la 
premlAre  page  qui  comporte  une  emprainte 
d'impreaaion  ou  d'illuatration  at  an  tarminant  par 
la  dernlAre  page  qui  comporte  une  telle 
empreinte. 


The  laat  recorded  frame  on  each  microfiche 
shall  contain  the  symbol  -ii^  (meaning  "CON- 
TINUED "),  or  the  symbol  y  (meaning  'END"), 
whichever  appliea. 


Un  dee  symboioa  suivanta  apparattra  sur  la 
darniAre  image  de  cheque  microfiche,  selon  le 
caa:  le  symbole  •^■^  signifie  "A  SUIVRE",  le 
symbole  y  signifie  "FIN". 


re 


Mapa,  platea,  charta.  etc.,  may  be  filmed  at 
different  reduction  ratios.  Thoae  too  large  to  be 
entirely  included  in  one  expoaure  »n  fifmed 
beginning  in  the  upper  left  hand  corner,  left  to 
right  and  top  to  bottom,  aa  many  framea  aa 
required.  The  following  diagrama  illuatrate  the 
method: 


Lea  cartaa.  planchea.  tableaux,  etc.,  pauvent  dtre 
filmte  i  dee  taux  de  reduction  diffirents. 
Lorsque  le  document  eat  trop  grand  pour  Atro 
reproduit  en  un  seui  clich*.  il  est  film*  A  partir 
de  Tangle  supArieur  gauche,  de  gauche  *  droits, 
et  de  haut  en  bee,  en  prenant  ie  nombre 
d'imagea  nAceaaaira.  Lea  diagrammes  suivants 
iliuatrent  la  mAthoda. 


y  errata 
id  to 

It 

ie  pelure, 

9on  * 


1  2  3 


32X 


1  2  3 

4  5  6 


TH 


A£ 


F 


JAM 

L 


'jfc*. 


THE  CANOE  AND  THE  SADDLE, 


/' 


ADVENTURES  AMONG  THE  NORTHWESTERN 
RIVERS  AND  FORESTS ; 


AND 


ISTHMI  ANA. 


i^f^' 


I 


-"^^ 


-xTHEODORE    WINTHROpf 

ACT^OB  OF  "CECIL  DKEEME,"   "  JOHN  BRENT,"   AKD 
fi  \  "EDWIN   BKOTIIERTOFT." 


j       TENTH    EDITION. 


I 


BOSTON: 
JAMES   R.   OSGOOD   AND    COMPANY 

L.XH  T.CK.OK  &  F..O.S.  ..o  F..O,  Oscooo  &  Co  ' 

187  I. 


'^ 


Proparty  of  Ihs  t/brsr^ 
University  of  W.tcirioo 


Entered  according  to  Act  of  'Vqgress,  In  the  year  1862,  by 

TICKNOR    AND    FIELDS, 

hk  the  Clerk's  Office  of  the  District  Court  of  the  District  of  UaaMchoMttii 


Ukivbrsity  Prbss. 

WSLCH,    BiGBI.OW,    AND    CoMrART, 

Cambridcb. 


"^ 


2,  by 

BMMChOMttiL 


CONTENTS. 

L  An  Entrance       •       •       ^       •       .       ,  6 

n.  A  Elalam  Gbandeb       .       •       .       ,  7 

HL  Whulgb 24 

rV.  OWHHIOH \  53 

V.  Forests  op  the  Cascades       ...  80 

VL  "Boston  Tilicum" HI 

Vn.  Tacoma 123 

[.  Sowee  House.  —  Loolowcan        ,       .  155 

IX.  Via  Mala 177 

X.  Treachery       ,        .        ,        ,        ,        ,  194 

XI.  Kamaiakan  .        .        .        .       .        .        .213 

XII.  Lightning  and  Torchlight  ...  244 

ITQ.  The  Dalles.  —  Their  Legend  .       .       .267 

OCABULARY 399 


<4 

1 
I 


[STHMLINA 


•        .        . 


.    808 


Tni 


A  w 

)f  the 

Othe 

teeawan 

[througl 

imong 

lajesti 

ras  des 

life  a] 

lounta 

jreat  b 

the  con 

)orn  to 

lant,  th 

its  dcat] 

Tliroi 


ri'av,  w 


THE  CANOE  AMD  THE  SADDLE. 


tx 

N 


I. 


AN   ENTRANCE. 

A  WALL  of  terrible  breakers  marks  the  mouth 
[of  the  Columbia,  Achilles  of  rivers. 

Other  mighty  streams  may  swim  feebly  away 
[seaward,  may  sink  into  foul  marshes,  may  trickle 
Ithrough  the  ditches  of  an  oozy  delta,  may  scatter 
[among  sand-bars  the  currents  that  once  moved 
[majestic  and  united.     But  to  this  heroic  flood 
ras  destined  a  short  life  and  a  glorious  one,  — 
life  all  one  strong,  victorious  struggle,  from  the 
lountains  to  the  sea.    It  has  no  infai?  ;7,  —  two 
jreat  branches  collect  its  waters  up  anl  down 
the  continent.     They  join,  and  the  Columbia  is 
)orn  to  full  manhood.     It  rushes  forward,  jubi- 
lant, through  its  magnificent  chasm,  and  leaps  to 
its  death  in  the  Pacific. 

Tlirough  its  white  wall  of  breakers   Captain 
[Gi:iy,  with  liis  bark,  the  Columbia,  first  steered 


1 1 


3 
'1 


6 


THE  CANOE  AND  THE  SADDLE. 


boldly  to  discover  and  name  the  stream.  I  will 
not  invite  my  reader  to  follow  this  example,  and 
buffet  in  the  wrecking  uproar  on  the  bar.  The 
Columbia,  rolling  seaward,  repels  us. 

Let  us  rather  coast  along  northward,  and  enter 
the  Northwest  by  tlie  Straits  of  De  Fuca,  upon 
the  mighty  tides  of  an  inland  sea.  We  will  profit 
by  this  inward  eddy  of  ocean  to  float  quietly  pae^t 
Vancouver's  Island,  and  land  at  Kahtai,  Port 
Townsend,  tlie  opening  scene  of  my  narrative. 

The  adventures  chronicled  in  these  pages  liap- 
pened  some  years  ago,  but  the  story  of  a  civilized 
man's  solitary  onslaught  at  barbarism  cannot  lose 
its  mterest.  A  drama  with  Indian  actors,  in  In- 
dian costume,  upon  an  Indian  stage,  is  historical, 
whether  it  happened  two  hundred  years  since  in 
the  northeast,  or  five  years  since  in  the  northwest 
corner  of  our  countrj. 


Thi 

^  brothc 
I  Royal 
I  low  as 
I  leader 

liar.  1 
I  until  i 
then  I 
and  at 
lodge, 
Inh 
sibility 
the  K 
George 
Townsi 
than  hi 
rise  an 
lute  wi 
have  ' 
George 


m.  I  will 
imple,  and 
bar.    The 


,  and  enter 
i^uca,  upon 

will  profit 
uietly  j)ast 
ihtai,  Poit 
narrative, 
pages  hap- 

a  civilized 
jannot  lose 
ors,  in  In- 
I  historical, 
rs  since  in 

northwest 


I 


II. 


A   KLALAM    GRANDEE. 

The  Duke  of  York  was  ducally  drunk.  His 
brother,  King  George,  was  drunk  —  royally. 
Royalty  may  disdain  public  opinion,  and  fall  as 
low  as  it  pleases.  But  a  brother  of  tlie  throne, 
leader  of  the  opposition,  possible  Regent,  possible 
King,  must  retain  at  least  a  swaying  pcrpenui  Hi- 
lar. King  George  had  kept  his  chair  of  state 
until  an  angular  sitting  position  was  impossible  ; 
then  he  had  subsided  into  a  curvilinear  droop, 
and  at  last  fairly  toppled  over,  and  lay  in  his 
lodge,  limp  and  stertorous. 

In  his  lodge  lay  Georgius  Rex,  in  flabby  ii' sen- 
sibility. Dead  to  the  duties  of  sovereignty  was 
the  King  of  the  Klalams.  Like  other  royal 
Georges,  in  palaces  more  regal  than  this  Port 
Townsend  wigwam,  in  realms  more  civilized 
than  here,  where  the  great  tides  of  Puget's  Sound 
rise  and  fall,  this  royal  George  had  sunk  in  abso- 
lute wreck.  Kings  are  but  men.  Several  kings 
have  thought  themselves  the  god  Bacchus. 
George  of  the  Klalams  had  imbibed  this  ambi- 


?! 

i! 

'I 


'I 


THE  CANOE  AND  THE  SADDLE. 


tioiis  error,  and  had  proved  liimself  very  much 
lowcr  than  a  god,  nuicli  lower  than  a  man, 
lower  than  any  plebeian  Klalam  Indian,  —  a 
drunken  king. 

In  the  great  shed  of  slabs  that  served  them  for 
palace  sat  the  Queen,  —  sat  the  Qutfons,  —  mild- 
eyed,  melancholy,  copper-colored  persons,  also, 
f>ad  to  say,  not  sober.  Etiquette  demanded 
mebriety.  The  stern  rules  of  royal  hidecorum 
must  be  obeyed.  The  Queen  Dowager  had  suc- 
cumbed to  ceremony  ;  the  Queen  Consort  was 
sinking ;  every  lesser  queen,  —  the  favorites  for 
sympathy,  the  neglected  for  consolation,  —  all 
had  imitated  their  lord  and  master. 

Courtiers  had  done  likewise.  Chamberlain 
Gold  Stick,  Black  Rod,  Garter  King  at  Arms,  a 
dozen  high  functionaries,  were  prostrate  by  the 
side  of  prostrate  majesty.  Courtiers  grovelled 
with  their  sovereign.  Sardanapalus  never  pre- 
sided, until  he  could  preside  no  longer,  at  a  moro 
tumble-down  orgie. 

King,  royal  household,  and  court  all  were 
powerless,  and  I  was  a  suppliant  here,  on  the 
waters  of  the  Pacific,  for  means  of  commencing 
my  homeward  journey  across  the  continent  to- 
ward the  Atlantic.  I  needed  a  bark  from  that 
fleet  by  which  King  George  ruled  the  waves.  I 
had  dallied  too  long  at  Vancouver's  Island, 
under  tiie  hospitable   roof  of  the  Hudson's  Bay 


I  Com  pa 
im  niiih 
inspect 
Ihojich, 
[lust  da 
)verlaii 
Killes  ( 
"fBi'twoci 
of  l*ugi 
linoiitan 
Itho  dilii 
Mlonieni 
i     Tlien 
|away  ui 
)ccanie 
dl  this 
|I  kicked 
Yes! 
Proud 
•ad  leal 
the   pen 
^V^'ould  1 
[n  his  Si 
[ton  Pav 
niiiu  of  1 
png-knife 
[avenge 
ing,  upoi 
[indeed  s 


A   KLALAM    GHAXDEE. 


:j  much 

a  mail, 

iaii,  —  a 

them  for 
,  —  mild- 
US,  also, 
omandod 
decorum 
had  sue- 
isort  was 
writes  for 
3n,  —  all 

.mberlaiii 
;  Arms,  a 
e  by  the 
yrovelled 
3ver  pro- 
it  a  more 

all  were 
,  on  the 
imencins 
inent  to- 
•om  that 
aves.  I 
Island, 
)n's  Buy 


Company,  and  had  consumed  invaluahlo  hours 
4in  making  a  detour  from  my  jiroper  course  to 
inspect  the  house,  the  saw-mill,  the  l)luir,  and  the 
)eaeh,  called  Port  Townsend.  These  were  the 
last  days  of  August,  1853.  I  was  to  meet  my 
overland  conu'ades,  a  pair  of  roughs,  at  the 
iDalles  of  the  Columbia  on  the  first  of  September. 
|]Jetwecn  me  and  the  rendezvous  were  the  leagues 
»ot'  Tuget's  Sound,  the  preparation  for  an  ultra- 

1  montane  trip,  the  passes  of  the  Cascades,  and  all 
the  dilatoriness  and  danger  of  Indian  guidance. 
JMonients  now  were  worth  days  of  common  life. 
5  Therefore,  as  I  saw  those  winged  moments  flit 
jaway  unharnessed  to  my  chariot  of  departure,  I 
|beeanie  wroth,  and,  advancing  where  the  king  of 
fall  this  region  lay,  limp,  stertorous,  and  futile, 
|l  kicked  him  liberally. 
I     Yes !     I  have  kicked  a  king ! 

Proudly  I  claim  that  I  have  outdone  the  most 
radical  regicide.      I  have   offered  indignities  to 
|the   person   of  royalty  with   a  moccasined   toe. 
AV^ould  that  that  toe  had  been  robustly  booted  ! 
n  his  Sans  Souci,  his  OEil  de  Bceuf,  his  Brigh- 
ton Pavilion,  I  kicked  so  much  of  a  first  gentle- 
man of  his  realm  as  was  George  R.,  and  no  scalp- 
'Jing-knife  leaped  from  greasy  seal-skin  sheath  to 
avenge   the   insult.     One   bottle-holder  in   wait- 
ing, upon  whose  head  I  had  casually  trodden,  did 

indeed  stagger  to  his  seat,  and  stammer  trucu* 
I* 


f! 

I 

•I 

f 


I' 

■: 

'I 

n 

!l 

M 
II 
I) 

I' 
I! 


10 


THE  CANOE  AND  THE  SADDLE. 


Icntly  in  Chinook  jargon,  "  Potlatch  lum  !  —  Give 
me  to  drink,"  quoth  ho,  and  incontinently  fell 
prone  again,  a  poor,  collapsed  hottle-holder. 

But  kicking  the  insensible  King  of  the  Kla- 
lams,  that  dominant  nation  on  the  soutliern 
shores  of  Puget's  Sound,  did  not  procure  me 
one  of  his  canoes  and  a  crew  of  his  braves  to 
paddle  me  to  Nisquully,  my  next  station,  for  a 
blanket  apiece  and  gratuities  of  sundries.  There 
was  no  help  to  be  had  from  that  smoky  barn  or 
its  sorry  inmates,  so  regally  nicknamed  by  Brit- 
ish voyagers.  I  left  them  lying  upon  their  dirty 
mats,  among  their  fishy  baskets,  and  strode  away, 
applying  the  salutary  to3  to  each  dignitary  as  I 
passed. 

Fortunately,  without  I  found  the  Duke  of 
York,  only  ducally  drunk.  A  duke's  share  of 
the  potables  had  added  some  degrees  to  the  arc 
of  vibration  of  his  swagger,  but  had  not  sent  it 
beyond  equilibrium.  He  was  a  reversed  pendu- 
lum, somewhat  spasmodic  in  swing,  and  not  con- 
structed on  the  compensation  principle,  —  when 
one  muscle  relaxed,  another  did  not  tighten. 
However,  the  Duke  was  still  sober  enough  to 
have  speculation  in  his  eyes,  and  as  he  was  Re- 
gent now,  and  Lord  High  Admiral,  I  might  still 
by  his  favor  be  expedited. 

It  was  a  chance  festival  that  had  intoxicated 
the  Klalams,  king  and  court.     Tliere  had  been 


jaiid  nil 

I       ■ 

Jlvlalani! 
^ovuiiioa 


A  KLALAM   GHANDEE. 


11 


!  —  Give 

jiitly  fell 
)lder. 
the  Kla- 
soiitlierii 
cure  me 
)raves  to 
on,  for  a 
3.  There 
f  barn  or 
by  Brit- 
beir  dirty 
jde  away, 
tary  as  I 

Duko   of 

share  of 
the  arc 

)t  sent  it 

pendu" 

not  con- 

—  when 

tighten. 

lOugh   to 


a  fraternization,  a  powwow,  a  walivrrJi,  a  peace 
congress  witli  some  neighlK)ring  tribe,  —  porluips 
tlio  Squiikisnaniihli,  or  Scpiiillyaniisli,  or  Sinabo- 
niish,  or  sonic  other  of  the  Wbulgciunish,  dwell- 
ers by  Wbulge,  —  the  waters  of  Tuget's  Sound. 
And  just  as  the  festival  began,  there  hud  conio 
to  i*()rt  Townscnd,  or  Ivabtai,  wlicrc  the  king  of 
tlie  Rlalanis,  or  S'  Ivlalanis,  now  reigned,  a  devil- 
send  of  a  lumber  brig,  with  rnpior  of  the  fieriest. 
An  orgie  followed,  a  nation  was  prostrate. 

Tiie  Duke  was  my  only  hope.     Yet  1  must  not 
etray  eagerness.      A  dignitary  among   Indians 
does  not  like  to  be  bored  with  energy.     If  1  were 
ttoo  ardent,  the   Duke  would  grow  coy.     Prices 
jwould  climb  to  the   unapproaehal)lo.      Any   ex- 
hibition of  impatience  would  cost  me  largess  of 
beads,  if  not  blankets,  beyond  the  tariff  for  my 
Icanoe-hire.      A  frugal   mind,  and,  on   the  other 
hand,  a  l)ent  toward  irresponsible  pleasure,  kept 
Itiie  Duke  palpably  wavering.     He  would  joyfnlly 
>tay  and   complete   ins    saturnalia,  and   yet    the 
[bliss  of   more   chattels,  and   consequent  consid- 
eration, tempted  him.     Which  shall  it  be,  *•  hi- 
moti"or  *' pississy,"  —  bottle  or  blanket?  revel 


I  was  Re-     1^"^  inni,  ov  toil  and  toilette 


tl 


»e  iiriNi 


t  Jilt 


er 


light  still 


toxicated 
lad  been 


native  on  wliich.  civilization  iilnues,  as  well  anioiiij 


iKlal 


anis  as  e 


l.-oul 


lere. 


Snnlu'anis  iu-e  so  warm, 


a. id  basking  ^\w.\\  dulcet,  d<j-notliihg  bliss,   why 
[overheat  one's  self  now  for  thu  woollea  mmeut 


t:: 

r; 

t) 


I  • 

•I 

M 
i) 

!• 
I) 
t) 


» 1 


12 


THE  CANOE  AND  THE  SADDLE. 


:!ii; 


of  future  warmth  ?  Not  merely  warmth,  but 
wealth,  —  wives,  chiefest  of  luxuries,  are  bought 
with  blankets  ;  with  them  canoes  are  bought,  and 
to  a  royal  highness  of  savages,  blankets  are  pur- 
ple, ermine,  and  fine  linen. 

Calling  the  Duke's  attention  to  these  facts, 
I  wooed  him  cautiously,  as  craft  wooes  coyness ; 
I  assumed  a  lofty  indifference  of  demeanor, 
and  negotiated  with  him  from  a  sham  vantage- 
ground  of  money-power,  knowing  what  trash 
my  purse  would  be,  if  he  refused  to  be  tempted. 
A  grotesque  jargon  called  Chinook  is  the  lin- 
gua-franca  of  the  whites  and  Indians  of  the 
Northwest.  Once  the  Chinooks  were  the  most 
numerous  tribe  along  the  Columbia,  and  the 
first,  from  their  position  at  its  mouth,  to  meet 
and  talk  with  strangers.  Now  it  is  all  over 
with  them ;  their  bones  are  dust ;  small-pox  and 
spirits  have  eliminated  the  race.  But  there  grew 
up  between  them  and  the  traders  a  lingo,  an 
incoherent  coagulation  of  words,  —  as  much  like 
a  settled,  logical  language  as  a  legion  of  cen- 
trifugal, marauding  Bashi  Bazouks,  every  man 
a  Jack-of-all-trades,  a  beggar  and  blackguard,  is 
like  an  accurate,  unanimous,  disciplined  battal- 
ion. It  is  a  jargon  of  English,  French,  Span- 
ish, Chinook,  Kallapooga,  Haida,  and  other 
tongues,  civilized  and  savage.  It  is  an  attempt 
on  a  small  scale  to  nullify  Babel  by  combining 


la  confi 
tongues 
iable   th 
I  Saxon 
|ing  or 
iduty;  c 
ftiired  \^ 
jmets. 
lof  this  ( 


iThe  Chi 
several 
)f  convG 
Jmploy 
thought 
little  phi 

My  bij 
In  such 

''Pott; 

^ing  Ge 

)eggarly 

)rince   a 

look  esi 

)addle. 

ly,  copa 

to  Squall 

ikta;  sto 

HIS  suud 


A   KLALAM    GRANDEE. 


18 


th,  but 
bought 
;ht,  and 
ire  pur- 

e  facts, 
oyuess ; 
neanor, 
'^antage- 
,t   trash 
emptcd. 
the  liii- 
of  the 
he  most 
md    the 
to  meet 
ill   over 
)0X  and 
L'e  grew 
JO,  au 
ch  like 
of  cen- 
ry  man 
Liard,  is 
battal- 
Span- 
othcr 
attempt 
nbining 


I  a  confusion  of  tongues  into   a  confounding  of 
tongues,  —  a  witches'  caldron  in  which  the  voc- 
able that  bobs   up  may   be   some   old   familiar 
Saxon  verb,  having  suffered  Procrustean  dock- 
ling  or  elongation,   and   now   doing  substantive 
[duty;  or  some  strange  monster,  evidently  nur- 
jtiired  within  the  range  of  tomahawks  and  calu- 
jmets.     There  is  some  danger  that  the  beauties 
lof  this  dialect  will  be  lost  to  literature, 

"  Carent  quia  vate  sacro." 

|The  Chinook  jargon  still  expects  its  poet.  As 
everal  of  my  characters  will  use  this  means 
lof  conveying  their  thoughts  to  my  reader,  and 
I  employ  me  only  as  an  interpreter,  I  have 
:  thought  it  well  to  aid  comprehension  by  this 
ittle  philological  preface. 

My  l)ig  talk  with  the  Duke  of  York  went  on 
n  such  a  lingo,  somewhat  as  follows :  — 
*'  Pottlelum  mitlite  King  Jawge ;  Drunk  lieth 
ing  George,"  said  I.    "  Cultus  tyee  ocook ;  a 
eggarly  majesty  that.    Hyas  tyee  mika ;  a  mighty 
rince   ar :,   thou,  —  pe  kumtux    skookoom    ma- 
nook  esick ;  and  knowest  how  robustly  to  ply 
addle.    Nika  tikky  hyack  klatawah  copa  Squal- 
y,  copa  canim ;  I  would  with  speed  canoe  it 
o  Squally.      Hui  pississy  nika  potlatch  pe  hui 
kta;  store  of  blankets  will  I  give,  and  plente» 
us  sundries.'* 


•'I 

•» 


•I 

M 


II 
II 

I' 

»  1 

I! 
I' 

If 


14 


THE  CAXOE  AND  THE  SADDLE. 


1:1! 
■'II, 


"  Xawitka  siks ;  yea,  friend,"  responded  the 
Duke,  gnispiiig  my  liand,  after  two  drunken 
clutches  at  empty  air.  *'  Klosche  nika  turn  turn 
copa  hyas  Baastcn  tyee ;  tender  is  my  heart 
toward  tliee,  0  great  Yankee  don.  Yaka  pot- 
tlolum  —  halo  nika  —  wako  cultus  mann  Doo- 
keryawk ;  ho  indeed  is  drunk  —  not  1 — no 
loafer-man,  the  Duke  of  York.  Mitlite  canim ; 
got  canoo.  Po  klosche  nika  tikky  klatawah 
copa  Squally ;  and  heartily  do  I  wish  to  go  to 
Squally." 

Had  the  Duke  wavered  still,  and  been  apa- 
thetic to  temptation  of  blankets,  and  sympathetic 
toward  the  joys  of  continued  saturnalia,  a  new 
inHucnce  now  brought  to  bear  would  have  stead- 
ied him.  One  of  his  Duchesses,  only  duchessly 
intoxicated,  came  forth  from  the  ducal  lodge, 
and  urged  him  to  effort. 

"  Go,    by    all   means,   with   the   distinguished 
stranger,  my  luve,"  said  she,  in  Chinook,  *"  and 
I  will  be  the  solace  of  thy  voyage.     Perchance, 
also,  a  string  of  beads  and  a  pocket-mirror  shall 
be  my  meed  from  the  Boston  chief,  a  very  gen- 1 
erous  man,  I  am  sure."     Then  she  smiled  cn- 
ticinj;ly,    her    Hat-faced    grace,   and    uitroduood 
iicr^olt'  as   Jenny    Lind,   or,   as    sl»e    called    it,  | 
"•  Chin  Ijin."     liidiunesquc,  not  fully  Indian,  was  % 
her  countenance.     There   was  a  trace  ol"  tin   in 
her  t'opper  color,  possibly  a  dabh  of  Caucasian 


[blood  i 
[result  c 
lis  with 
is  they 
head  w 
irt,  as 
fiature 
iiinenesj 
lectual 
^raceles 
Into  ori< 
[ndian  i 
:ceps  it 
)elles  hi 
jonsider 
nistakei 
fully   pai 
low  mu( 
|s  the  coi 


<r  '! 


fartin 

Jlic  cheel 

Tcform  fi 

tlie  forgo 

At  last 

|olicitati( 

(erniined 

nand  CQ 

►ucentai 

lony   fo 


A   KLALAM   GRANDEE. 


16 


led  the 
Iniuken 
im  turn 
jr  heart 
ka  pot- 
Ill  Doo- 
1 —  no 
canim ; 
hitawah 
io  go  to 

jen  apar 
I  pathetic 
,  a  new 
v^e  stead- 
uchessly 
\  lodge, 

iffuished 
and 


Ck 


•chance, 
•or  shall 
jry  gen-j 
ded  en- 
Todueod 
died  it, 
ian,  was 
»t'  tin  in 
lucabian 


sblood  ilk  her  veins.     Brazenness  of  hue  was  the 
Iresult  of  this  union,  and  a  very  pretty  color  it 
is  with  eloquent   blushes   mantling   through   it, 
s  tliey  do  mantle  in  Indian  cheeks.     Her  fore- 
icad  was  slightly  and  coquettisldy  flattened  by 
rt,  as  a  woman's  should  be  by  nature,  unless 
uiture  destines  her  for  missions  foreign  to  fomi- 
lincncss,  and  means  that  she  sliall  be  an  intel- 
cctual   roundhead,   and    shall    sternly    keep    a 
raceless   school,  to  irritate   youthful   cherubim 
Jiito  original  sinners.     Indian  maids  are  pretty ; 
iidian  dames  are  hags.     Only  high  civilization 
cops  its  women   beautiful  to  tiie  last.     Indian 
elles  have  some  delights  of  toilette  worthy  of 
ousideration    by    their    blonde    sisterhood.      0 
listaken   harridans  of  Christendom,  so  bounti- 
fully painted   and   powdered,  did  yo  but  know 
ow  much  better  than  your  ditfusiveness  of  daub 
fs  the  concentrated  brilliance  of  vermilion  stripes 
artiiig  at  the  nose-bridge  and  streaming  athwart 
lie  cheeks !     Knew  ye  biit  this,  at  once  ye  would 
eform  from  your  undeluding  shams,  and  recover 
lie  forgotten  charms  of  acknowledged  pinxit. 

At  lust,  persuaded  by  his  own  desires  and  tho 

olicitatioiis  of  his  fair  Duchess,  the  Duke  de- 

ermincd   to   transport   me.      He    pointed   to   a 

I  and  canoe  on  the  beach,  —  that  should  be  our 

ucentaur,  and  now  he  must  don  robes  of  cere- 

ony  for  the  voyage.     For,  indeed,  both  ducal 


•  « 

!i 

I) 

K 

i 

CI 


II 

n 


16 


THE  CANOE  AND  THE  SADDLE. 


personages  were  in  deshabille.  A  dirty  shirt, 
blue  and  short,  was  the  Duke's  chief  habiliment ; 
hers,  a  shirt  longer,  but  no  cleaner. 

Within  his  palace-curtains  now  disappeared 
the  second  grandee  of  the  Klalams,  to  bedeck 
himself.  Presently  I  lifted  the  hanging  mat  that 
served  for  door  to  his  shed  of  slabs,  and  followed 
him.  His  family  and  suite  were  but  crapulous 
after  their  less  than  royal  potations.  He  de^ 
spatched  two  sleepy  braves  to  make  ready  tho 
canoe,  and  find   paddles. 

"  Where  is  my  cleanest  shirt,  Chin  Lin  ?  "  he 
asked. 

"  Nika  macook  lum ;  I  buy  grog  with  um," 
replied  the  Duchess. 

"  Cultus  mamook  ;  a  dastardly  act,"  growled 
the  Duke,  "  and  I  will  thwack  thee  for  *t." 

Jenny  Lind  sank  meekly  upon  the  mud-floor, 
and  wept,  while  the  Duke  smote  her  with  palm, 
fist,  and  staff. 

"  Kopet !  hold  !  "  cried  I,  rushing  forward. 
"Thy  beauteous  spouse  has  bought  the  nectar 
for  thy  proper  jollity.  Even  were  she  selfish,  it 
is  uncivilized  to  smite  the  fair.  Among  the 
Bostons,  when  women  wrong  us,  we  give  pity 
or  contempt,  but  not  the  strappado."  Harangues 
to  Indians  are  traditionally  in  sucli  lofty  style. 

The  Duke  suffered  himself  to  be  appeased, 
and    proceeded    to    dress    without    the    missing 


article, 
evident 
ition,  ai 
wearers 
I  him  of 
geous  c 
and  pea 
wrinkle" 
dering, 
Italoons 
)ottom, 
faded  sc 
very  j 

rould  li 
)f  deca} 

ted  pa 
ibout  tl 
lusky  e 
liis  appe 
taken  fo 
colpor 
jonstabh 

lerce,  a 
Btolen  a 
lim  a  c 


A  KLALAM    GRANDEE. 


17 


ty  shirt, 
lilimeiit ; 

ippeared 
)  bedeck 
mat  that 
followed 
rapulous 
He  de- 
3ady  tho 

in?"  he 

ith  um  " 

growled 
r  't." 
iiid-floor, 
th  palm, 

forward, 
e  nectar 
elfish,  it 
long  the 
rive  pity 
arangues 
style, 
ippeased, 
missing 


article.  He  donned  a  faded  black  frock-coat, 
[evidently  a  misfit  for  its  first  owner  in  civiliza- 
tion, and  transmitted  down  a  line  of  deformed 
wearers  to  fall  amorphous  on  the  shoulders  of 
him  of  York.  For  coronet  he  produced  no  gor- 
geous combination  of  velvet,  strawberry-leaves, 
and  pearls ;  but  a  hat  or  tile,  also  of  civilization, 
iwrinkled  with  years  and  battered  by  world-wan- 
dering, crowned  him  frowzily.  Black  dress  pan- 
italoons  of  brassy  sheen,  much  crinkled  at  the 
[bottom,  where  they  fell  over  moccasins  with  a 
[faded  scarlet  instep-piece,  completed  his  costume, 
very  shabby  old-clo'  Duke.  A  virulent  radical 
would  have  enjoyed  him  heartily,  as  an  emblem 
)f  decay  in  the  bloated  aristocracy  of  this  region, 
^ed  paint  daubed  over  his  clumsy  nose,  and 
ibout  the  flats  surrounding  his  little,  disloyal, 
lusky  eyes,  kept  alive  the  traditional  Indian  in 
[lis  appearance.  Otherwise  he  might  have  been 
taken  for  a  decayed  priest  turned  bar-tender,  or 
colporteur  of  tracts  on  spiritualism,  or  an  ex- 
jonstable  pettifogger  in  a  police  court.  Com- 
lerce,  alas  !  had  come  to  the  waters  of  Whulge, 
stolen  away  his  Indian  simplicity,  and  made 
lim  a  caricature,  dress,  name,  and  nature.  A 
^)rimitive  Klalam,  clad  in  skins  and  undevoured 
)y  the  flames  of  fire-water,  he  woidd  have  done 
rell  enough  as  a  type  of  fish-fed  barbarism. 
Civilization  came,  with  step-mother  kindness,  bap- 


t) 


) 


i) 
(J 

1 


i 


18 


THE  CANOE  AND  THE  SADDLE. 


I'  ]■ 


tized  him  with  rum,  clothed  him  in  discarded 
slops,  and  dubbed  him  Duke  of  York.  Hapless 
scarecrow,  disreputable  dignitary,  no  dukelini! 
of  tliine  shall  ever  become  the  Louis  Philippe 
of  Klalam  revolutions.  Boston  men  are  coming 
in  tlieir  big  canoes  over  sea.  Pikes  have  shaken 
off  the  fever  and  ague  on  the  banks  of  the 
muddy  Missouri,  and  are  striding  beyond  the 
Rockys.  Nasal  twangs  from  the  east  and  west 
soon  will  sound  thy  trump  of  doom.  Squatters 
will  sit  upon  thy  dukedom,  and  make  it  their 
throne. 

Tides  in  Whulge,  which  the  uneducated  map? 
call  Puget's  Soimd,  rush  with  impetus,  rising 
and  falling  eighteen  or  twenty  feet.  The  tide 
was  rippling  winningly  up  to  the  stranded  ca- 
noes. Our  treaty  was  made  ;  our  costume  was 
complete  ;  we  prepared  to  embark.  But  lo !  a 
check  !  In  malignant  sulks.  King  George  came 
forth  from  his  mal-perfumed  lodge  of  red-smearec 
slabs.  "  Veto,"  said  he.  "  Dog  am  I,  and  thi: 
is  my  manger.  Every  canoe  of  the  fleet  is  mine, 
and  from  this  beach  not  one  shall  stir  this  dav 
of  festival ! " 

Whereupon,  after  a  wrangle,  short  and  sharp, 
with  the  Duke,  in  which  the  King  whipped  on: 
a  knife,  and  brandished  it  with  drunken  vibra 
tions  in  my  face,  he  staggered  back,  and  agaii 
lay  in  his  lodge,  limp  and  stertorous.     Had  h( 


felt  m 

disconi 

Roy, 

ereign, 
precede 
full  of 
Duke  t 
levy  fr( 
canoes 

colored 
leach  ci 
iDuke's 
better  ( 
No  c 
in  Web 
the  wa} 
inew  ele 
ast  R 
influenc 
ibbon 
ost  by 
esult 
odel 
oyage 
nd  gra 
lization 
eon,  ai 
evelopi 


A  KLALAM   GRANDEE. 


19 


discarded 
Hapless 

dukelin<! 
s  Philippe 
re  coming 
ive  shaken 
iks  of  the 
icyond  the 
,  and  west 

Squatteii 
ke  it  their 

jated  maps 
itus,  rising 
The  tide 
raiided  ca 
stume  wa; 
But  lo!  a 
jorge  came 
ed-smeared 
I,  and  this 
jet  is  mine, 
ir  this  daj 

and  sharp, 
hipped  Dili 
iken  vibra 
and  agaii 
,     Had  h 


felt  my  kick,  or  was  this  merely  an  impulse  of 
discontented  ire  ? 

How  now  ?  Could  we  not  dethrone  the  sov- 
ereign, and  confiscate  his  property  ?  There  are 
precedents  for  such  a  course.  But  savage  life  is 
full  of  chances.  As  I  was  urging  the  sobcrish 
Duke  to  revolutionary  acts,  or  at  least  to  a  forced 
levy  from  the  royal  navy,  a  justifiable  piracy,  two 
canoes  appeared  rounding  the  point. 

"  *  Come  unto  these  yellow  sands,'  ye  brass- 
colored  braves,"  we  cried.  They  were  coming, 
each  crew  roving  any  whither,  and  soon,  by  the 
Duke's  agency,  I  struck  a  bargain  for  the  leaky 
better  of  the  two  vessels. 

No  clipper  that  ever  creaked  from  statu  quo 
in  Webb's  shipyard,  and  rumbled  heavily  along 
jthe  ways,  and  rushed  as  if  to  drown  itself  in  its 
new  element,  and  then  went  cleaving  across  the 
East  River,  staggering  under  the  intoxicating 
influence  of  a  champagne-bottle  with  a  blue 
ribbon  round  its  neck,  cracked  on  the  rudder- 
post  by  a  blushing  priestess,  —  no  such  grand 
result  of  modern  skill  ever  surpassed  in  mere 
model  the  canoe  I  had  just  chartered  for  my 
voyage  to  Squally.  Here  was  the  type  of  speed 
nd  grace  to  which  the  most  untrammelled  civ- 
lization  has  reverted,  after  cycles  of  junk,  gal- 
eon,  and  galliot  building,  —  cycles  of  lubberly 
evelopment,  but  full  of  instruction  as  to  what 


r: 

t) 

•I 


n 


M 
!) 
M 
I) 
I) 

P 

n 

I  i 
t 

i' 
11 


20 


THE  CANOE  AND  THE  SADDLE. 


m 


1 1 
1 


I  ' 


can  bo  done  with  the  best  type  when  it  is  rea- 
soned out  or  rediscovered.  My  vessel  was  a 
black  dug-out  with  a  red  gunwale.  Forty  feet 
of  pine-tree  had  been  burnt  and  whittled  into 
a  sharp,  buoyant  canoe.  Sundry  cross-pieces 
strengthened  it,  and  might  be  used  as  seats  or 
backs.  A  row  of  small  shells  inserted  in  tlie 
red-smeared  gunwale  served  as  talismans  against 
Bugaboo.  Its  master  was  a  withered  ancient; 
its  mistress  a  haggish  crone.  Tliese  two  were 
of  unsavory  and  fishy  odor.  Three  young  men, 
also  of  unsavory  and  fishy  odor,  completed  the 
crew.  Salmon  mainly  had  been  the  lifelong 
diet  of  all,  and  they  were  oozier  with  its  juices 
than  I  could  wish  of  people  1  must  touch  and 
smell  for  a  voyage  of  two  days. 

In  the  bargain  for  canoe  and  crew,  the  Duke 
constituted  himself  my  courier.  I  became  his 
prey.  The  rule  of  tea-making,  where  British 
ideas  prevail,  is  a  rough  generalization,  a  spoon- 
ful for  the  pot  and  one  for  each  bibber.  The 
tariff  of  canoe-hire  on  Whulge  is  equally  sim- 
ple,—  a  blanket  for  the  boat,  and  one  for  each 
paddler.  The  Duke  carefully  included  himself 
and  Jenny  Lind  among  the  paddling  recipients 
of  blankets.  I  ventured  to  express  the  view 
that  both  he  and  his  Duchess  would  be  un 
washed  supernumeraries.  At  this  he  was  indig- J 
iiant.  He  felt  himself  necessary  as  impresario 
of  the  expedition. 


"Wa 
that  ok 
skipper, 
le  drun 
10  unde 
kake  pc 
jsick,  p 

liglity 
lerstand 
i:o  fast  t 

"  Ver) 
rour  hai 
(hree  fisl 
md  youi 
lust  bo 
lead  wei 

"  Nawi 
^cook  ol)! 
^oman." 
lotonous, 

"And 
mdry  g 
hat  shap 
ikky  nai 
ly  certifi 
I  took 
lave  we  ii 
less  by  hi 
there  wa 


A  KLALAM    GRANDEE. 


21 


"  Wake  closclie  ocook  olyman  siwash  ;  no  good 
that  oldmaii  savage,"  said  he,  pointing  to  tlio 
skipper.  "  Yaka  pottlelum,  conoway  pottlclum  ; 
le  drunk,  all  drunk.  Wake  kumtux  Squally ; 
10  understand  Squally.  Hyas  tyce  Dookeryawk, 
l^vake  pottlelum,  —  kumtux  skookoom  mamook 
jsick,  pe  tikky  hyack  klatawah  copa  Squally ; 
lighty  chief  the  Duke  of  York,  not  drunk,  un- 
lerstand  to  ply  paddle  mightily,  and  want  to 
ro  fast  to  Squally." 

"  Very  well,"  said  I,  "  I  throw  myself  into 
^our  hands.  My  crew,  then,  numbers  six,  the 
fhree  fishy  youths,  Olyman  siwash,  Jenny  Lind, 
ind  yourself.  As  to  Olyman's  fishy  squaw,  she 
lust  be  temporarily  divorced,  and  go  ashore ; 
lead  weight  will  impede  our  voyage." 

"  Nawitka,"  responded  the  Klalam,  "  cultus 
^cook  olyman  cloocheman ;  no  use  that  oldman 
roman."  So  she  went  ashore,  bow-legged,  mo- 
notonous, and  a  fatalist,  like  all  old  squaws. 

"  And   now,"    continued    the  Duke,   drawing 

indry  greasy  documents  from  the  pocket  of 
hat  shapeless  draggle-tail  coat  of  his,  "  mika 
[kky  nanitch  nika  teapot ;  wilt  thou  inspect 
ly  certificates  ?  " 

I  took  the  foul  papers  without  a  shudder, — 
lave  we  not  all  been  educated  out  of  squeamish- 
less  by  handling  the  dollar-bills  of  civilization  ? 
[here  was   nothing  ambiguous  in  the  wording 


n 


11 

i: 

n 

f 


THE  CANOE  AND  THE  SADDLE. 


:i.',l:: 


of  these  "  teapots."  It  chanced  sometimes,  in 
days  of  chivalry,  that  spies  bore  missions  witli 
clauses  sinister  to  themselves,  as  this:  "Tlio 
bearer  is  a  losel  vile,  —  have  you  never  a  hang- 
man and  an  oak  for  him?"  Tlie  Duke's  testi- 
monials were  of  similar  import.  Tliey  wero 
signed  by  Yankee  skippers,  by  Britisli  naval 
officers,  by  casual  travellers,  —  all  unanimous  in 
opprobrium.  lie  was  called  a  drunken  rascal, 
a  shameless  liar,  a  thief;  called  each  of  these 
in  various  idioms,  with  plentiful  epithets  thrown 
in,  according  to  the  power  of  imagery  possessed 
by  the  author.  Such  certificates  ho  presented 
gravely,  and  with  tranquil  pride.  He  deemed 
himself  indorsed  by  civilization,  not  branded. 
Men  do  not  always  comprehend  the  world's  cyni- 
cal praise.  It  seemed  also  that  his  Grace  had 
once  voyaged  to  San  Francisco  in  what  he  called 
a  "  skookoom  canim  copa  moxt  stick  ;  a  colos- 
sal canoe  with  two  masts."  lie  did  not  stato 
what  part  he  played  on  board,  whether  cook,  cap- 
tain, stowaway,  or  Klulam  plenipo  to  those  with- 
in the  Golden  Gate.  His  photograph  had  been 
taken  at  San  Francisco.  This  he  also  exhibited 
in  a  grandiose  manner,  the  Duchess,  Olyman 
eiwash,  and  the  three  fishy  siwashes  examining 
it  with  wonder  and  grunts  of  delight. 

Now  it  must  not  be  supposed  that  the  Dukei 
was  not  still  ducally  drunk,  or  that  it  was  easy 


A   KLALAM   GUANDEK. 


23 


[o  keep   him   steady    in    position   or   intention. 

^)lyman    siwash,  also,    though   not  i)atently    in- 

loxicated,  wished  to  be,  —  so  did  the  three  un- 

|iivory,  hickory-shu  "^d,  nuit-haircd,  truculent  si- 

aslies.    Olyman  would  frequently  ask  ino,  aside, 

II  tlic  strange,  unimpassioned,  expressionless  un- 

Icrtonc  of  an  Indian,  for  a  "  lunioti,"  Chinook 

brgon  for  la  bouteille^  meaning  no  empty  bottle, 

|ut  a  full.     Never  a  lumoti  of  delay  and  danger 

[ot  Olyman  from  mo.      Our  preparations  went 

[eavily   enough.      Sometimes   the    whole   party 

rould  squat  on   the  beach,  and  jabber  for  ten 

linutes,   ending   always   by   demanding   of  me 

(|uor  or  higher  wagoe.     But  patience  and  pur- 

t)se  always  prevail.     At  last,  by  cool  urgency, 

got   them   all    on   board    and    away.      Adieu 

fort  Townsend,  then  a  town  of  one  house  on  a 

and  bluff,  and  one  saw-mill  in  a  black  ravine. 

liieu  intoxicated  lodges  of  Georgius  Rex  Kla- 

luiorum!    Adieu  Royalty!    Remember  my  kick, 

id  coutinuo  to  be  h'happy  as  you  may. 


r? 


(1 


III. 


WHUL6E. 


:  ( ■ : ;  ( I  . 

■j  ■:,! 


According  to  the  cosmical  law  that  regulates 
the  west  ends  of  the  world,  Whulge  is  more  in- 
teresting than  any  of  the  eastern  waters  of  our 
country.  Tame  Albemarle  and  Pamlico,  Chesa- 
peake and  Delaware,  Long  Island  Sound,  and 
even  the  Maine  Archipelago  and  Frenchman's 
Bay,  cannot  compare  with  it.  Whulge  is  worthy 
of  the  Scandinavian  savor  of  its  name.  Its  cock- 
ney misnomer  should  be  dropped.  Already  the 
critical  world  demands  who  was  "  Fuget,"  and 
why  should  the  title  be  saved  from  Lethe  and 
given  to  a  sound.  Whulge  is  a  vast  fiord,  part- 
ing rocks  and  forests  primeval  with  a  mighty 
tide.  Chesapeakes  and  the  like  do  very  well 
for  oyster  "  fundums "  and  shad-fisheries,  but 
Whulge  has  a  picturesque  significance  as  much 
greater  as  its  salmon  are  superior  to  the  osseous 
shad  of  the  east.  Some  of  its  beauties  will  ap- 
pear in  this  my  voyage. 

I  sat  comfortably  amidships  in  my  stately  bu^ 
leaky   galley,   Bucentaur  hight  for  the    nonce 


WIICLGE. 


25 


regulates 
more  in- 
rs  of  our 
io,  Chesa- 
und,  and 
nchman's 
is  worthy 
Its  cock- 
ready  the 
yet,"  and 
iCthe  and 
)rd,  part- 
a  mighty 
rery   well 
3ries,  but 
as  much 
e  osseous 
s  will  ap- 

;9.ielv  bu* 
e   nonce 


)lymau  siwasli  steered.     The  Duke  and  Duch- 

[ifs,  armed  with  idle  paddles,  were  between  him 

lid  me.     The  fisliy  trio  were  arranged  forward, 

laddhng  to   starboard   and   port.     It   was   past 

|oon  of  an  August  day,  sultry,  but  not  blasting, 

are  the  summer  days  of  that  far  Northwest. 

^e  sped  on  gallantly,  paddling  and  spreading 

blanket  to  the  breeze. 

The  Duke,  however,  sogered  bravely,  and  pres- 
itly  called  a  halt.  Then,  to  my  consternation, 
produced  a  "  lumoti  '*  and  passed  it.  Pota- 
>ns  pottle-deep  ensued.  Each  reveller  took  one 
:th  of  the  liquor,  and,  after  the  Duke's  ex- 
Lustive  draught,  an  empty  bottle  floated  astern, 
general  stagger  began  to  be  perceptible  among 

sitters.     Their  paddling  grew  spasmodic. 
After  an   interval   I  heard   again   a  popping 
md,  not  unknown  to  me.     A  gurgle  followed, 
turned.     The  Duke  was  pouring  out  a  cupful 
)m  his  second  bottle.     He  handed  me  the  cup 
[d  lumoti  for  transmission  to  the  fishy,  forward, 
lis  must  stop.     I  deposited  the  bottle  by  my 
[e  and  emptied  the  cup   into   Whulge.     Into 
arm  of  the  Pacific  in  the  far  Northwest  I 
ired  that  gill  of  fire-water.     Answer  me  from 
northeast  corner,  0  Neal  Dow,  was  it  well 
L'le? 
'hen    raged  the   siwashes   all,  from  Oiyman 
:ched  on  high  and  wielding  a  helmsman  pad- 

2 


•i 


!  ' 

h 

h 


ii 


26 


THE  CANOL  AND  THE  SADDLE. 


die  aft,  to  a  special  blackguard  in  the  bow  "wli! 
villain  eyes  no  bigger  than  a  flattened  pea,  an 
a  jungle  of  coarse  black  hair,  thick  as  the  man 
of  a  buffalo  bull.  All  stowed  their  paddles  an 
talked  violently  in  their  own  tongue.  It  wa 
a  guttural,  sputtering  language  in  its  calmer 
articulativMi,  and  now  every  word  burst  forth  lik 
the  death-rattle  of  a  garroted  man. 

Finally,  in  Chinook,  "Kopet;  be  still,"  sai 
the  Duke.     "  Keelapi ;  turn  about,"  said  he. 

They  brandished  paddles,  and,  whirling  tl 
canoe  around,  tore  up  the  water  violently  fi 
a  few  strokes  I  said  nothing.  Presently  tlu 
paused,  and  talked  more  frantically  than  before 
Something  was  about  to  happen. 

Aha !  What  is  that,  O  Duke  ?  A  knife 
What  are  these,  O  dirty  siwashes  ?  Guns 
these,  flint-locks  of  the  Hudson's  Bay  patten 
"  Guns  for  thee,  0  spiteful  spiller  of  enlivenii 
beverage,  and  capturer  of  a  lumoti.  Butche: 
is  the  order  of  the  day ! " 

"  Look  you,  then,  aborigines  all.  I  carry  s; 
si  wash  lives  at  my  girdle.  This  machine - 
mark  it  well !  —  is  called  a  six-shooter,  an  eigl 
inch  navy  revolver,  invented  by  Col.  Sara  Oui 
of  Hartford,  Conn.  God  bless  him  !  We  a: 
se^en,  and  I  should  regret  sending  you  six  othc: 
to  the  Unhappy  Hunting-Grounds  of  the  Kicu^ 
Tyee,    Anglice   Devil,  the  lowermost  chie^tat 


a: 


-»CS' 


'j*":'' 


WHULGE. 


27 


A  knife 

Guns  a: 

ly  patter: 

enliveuii 

Butchei 

1 1  carry  s 
Imachine  - 
an  eigl 
Sara  Ool 
It     We  a- 
six  othcii 
the  Kicui 
cluei^tai 


Look  down  this  muzzle  as  I  whisk  it  about  and 
bring  it  to  bear  on  eacli  of  you  in  turn.  Rifled 
you  observe.  Pleasant,  well-oiled  click  that 
cylinder  has.  Behold,  also,  this  other  double- 
barrelled  piece  of  artillery,  loaded,  as  you  saw 
but  now,  with  polecat-shot,  in  case  we  should 
isee  one  of  these  black  and  white  objects  skulk- 
ing along  shore.  Unsavory  though  ye  be,  my 
[Klalams,  1  should  not  wisli  to  identify  you  in 
^our  deaths  with  that  animal." 

Saying  this,  with  an  air  of  indifference,  but 
in  expressive  pantomime,  I  could  not  fail  to 
)erceive  that  the  situation  was  critical.  Three 
Irunken  Indians  on  this  side,  and  two  and  a 
Oman  on  that,  and  I  playing  bottle-holder  in 
the  midst,  —  what  would  follow  ?  Their  wild 
|alk  and  threatening  gestures  continued.  I 
:ept  my  pistol  and  one  eye  cocked  at  him  of 
lie  old  clo',  the  teapots,  and  the  daguerrotype ; 
ly  other  eye  and  the  double-barrel  covered  the 
'io  in  the  bow.  This  dead  lock  lasted  several 
iinutes.  Meantime  the  canoe  had  yielded  to 
|ie  tide,  and  was  now  sweeping  on  in  a  favor- 
>le  course. 

At  last  the  Duke  laid  down  his  knife,  Olyman 
[wash  his  gun,  the  three  fishy  ones  theirs,  and 
is  Grace,  stretching  forth  an  eloquent  arm, 
fade  a  neat  speech.  Fluency  is  impossille  in 
|w-worded  Chinook  jargon,  but  brevity  is  more 
>tent. 


ri 


J 


1) 
I   • 

M 


28 


THE   CANOE  AND  THE  SADDLE. 


"  Ilyas  silex  nika ;  in  wrathful  sulks  am  I. 
Masatclie  nika  turn  turn  copa  mika ;  bitter  is 
my  heart  toward  thee.  Wake  cultus  tyee  Dooker- 
yawk  ;  no  paltry  sachem,  the  Duke  of  York. 
Wake  kamooks,  halo  pottlelum  ;  no  dog,  by  no 
means  a  soaker.  Ancoti  conoway  tikky  mamouk 
iscum  mika  copa  Squally,  —  alta  halo  ;  but  now. 
all  wished  to  conduct  thee  to  Squally ;  now,  nut 
BO.  Alta  nesika  wake  tikky  pississy,  pe  shirt,  pe 
polealely,  pe  Kaliaton,  pe  hiu  ikta,  —  tikky  kee- 
lapi ;  now  we  no  want  blankets  and  shirts  auc 
powder  and  shot  and  many  traps,  —  want  tc 
return.  Conoway  silex,  —  tikky  moosum  ;  all 
in  the  sulks,  —  want  to  sleep." 

Whereupon,  as  if  at  a  signal,  all  six  dived  deef 
into  slumber,  —  slumber  at  first  pretended,  per- 
haps to  throw  me  off  my  guard,  perhaps  a  crafty 
method  of  evading  the  difficulty  of  a  reconcilia 
lion,  and  the  shame  of  yielding.  So  deep  die 
they  plunge  into  sham  sleep,  that  they  sunk  int' 
real,  and  presently  I  heard  the  gurgle  of  snores, 

While  they  slept,  the  canoe  drifted  ove 
Whulge.  Fleet  waters  bore  me  on  whither  the; 
listed,  fortunately  whither  I  also  listed,  and,  i: 
ever  the  vessel  yawed,  a  few  quiet  strokes  will 
the  paddle  set  her  right  again.  The  curreu 
drew  me  away  from  under  shore,  and  to  tlr 
south,  through  distancing  haze  of  summer,  tli 
uoble  group  of  the  Olympian  Mountains  becam 


rivsible,  - 
worthy  n 
boutliern 
[lie  Pacif 
liglicst  p 
)etual  sii 
Me  pleasi 
lay.  Al 
rcorgc's 
lellion  a 
nee  of  tl 
lashed  w 

So  I  Si 
lentlc  voi 

'^  Sleep 
nc,  with 
lose-brid^ 
ly  necta; 
pokeu  La 
ell  as  pr 
ragraiit  j 
I  ice  toss  ( 
rake  the  . 

Tlie  Di 
uns  one  { 
tiicor. 
fanning  ) 
liant,  an^ 
[look  anc 
izz  of  a 


WHULGE. 


29 


:s   am  I. 

bitter  is 
e  Dooker- 
of  York. 
)g,  by  no 
'  mamouk 

but  now. 


isible,  —  a  grand  family  of   vigorous  growth, 
ortliy  more  perfect  knowledge.     Tlicy  fiH  t^je 
outliern  promontory,  where  Whulge  passes  into 
he  Pacific,  at  the  Straits  of  De  Fuca.     On  the 
iglicst  pinnacles  of  this  sierra,  glimmers  of  per- 
etiial  snow  in  sheltered  dells  and  crevices  ^ave 
10  pleasant,  chilly  thoughts  in  that  hot  August 
ay.      After  the  disgusting   humanity  of   Kuig 
B  shirt  pe  ^  Jfcorge's  realms,  and  after  the  late  period  of  re- 
ellion   and  disorganization,  the   calming   influ- 
nce  of  these  azure  luminous  peaks,  their  blue 
lashed  with  silver,  was  transcendent. 
So  I  sat  watchful,  and  by  and  by  I  heard  a 
ntle  voice,  "  Wake  nika  moosum  ;  I  sleep  not.** 
*'  Sleepest  thou  not,  pretty  Duchess,  flat-faced 

fnc,  with  chevrons  vermilion  culminating  at  ihy 
ose-bridge  ?  Wilt  thou  forgive  me  for  spilling 
ly  nectar,  Lalage  of  the  dulcet  laugh,  dulcet- 
)okeu  Lalage  ?  Would  that  thou  wort  clean  as 
ell  as  pretty,  and  had  known  but  seldom  the  too 
agrant  salmon  !  —  would  that  I  had  never  seen 
lee  toss  off  a  waterless  gill  of  fire-water  !  Please 
ake  the  Duke.'* 

Tiie  Duke  woke.  Olyman  woke.  Woke  Kla- 
ms  one  and  all.     Sleep  had  banished  wrath  and 

ucor.  All  grasped  their  paddles,  and,  soon 
arming  with  work,  the  fugleman  waked  a  w'ld 
lant,  and  to  its  stirring  vibrations  the  caroe 
look  and  leaped  forward  like  a  salmon  ia  the 

zz  of  a  tideway. 


now,  nut 


Likky  kee- 
ihirts  auG 
-want  tc 
)sum :   all  'I 


lived  deef 

nded,  per- 

ps  a  craft) 

reconcilia 

deep  di'^ 

sunk  iut 

)f  snores. 

fted    ove: 

ither  the; 

d,  and,  i! 

rokes  witi 

le  curren 

nd  to  til' 

mmer,  tin 

ns  becam 


«  • 

»     a 


ft!" 

(.1 
'I 

I     * 

i  ■ 
t  I 

M 

.'; 


I 


) 


t 


ao 


THE  CANOE  AND  THE  SADDLE. 


We  careered  on  for  an  hour.  Then  I  siig 
gested  a  pause  and  a  picnic.  BriUiant  and 
friendly  thought,  —  "  Conoway  tikky  mucka- 
muck  " ;  all  want  to  eat.  Take  then,  my  par- 
doned crew,  from  my  stores,  portions  of  dried 
cod.  Tliin  it  is,  transkicent,  and  very  nice  for 
Klalam  or  Yankee.  Take  also  hardtack  at  dis- 
cretion,  — "  pire  sapolel,"  or  fired  corn,  as  ye 
name  it.  Our  picnic  was  rumless,  wholesome, 
and  amicable,  and  after  it  paddling  and  songs 
were  renewed  with  vigor.  We  were  not  alone 
upon  Whulge.  Many  lumber  vessels  were  drift- 
ing or  at  anchor  under  the  opposite  shore,  loaded 
mainly  with  fir-trees,  soon  to  be  drowned  as  piles 
for  San  Francisco  docks.  Those  were  prosper- 
ous days  in  tlie  Pacific.  The  country  which  goes 
to  sea  through  Whulge  had  recently  split  away 
from  Oregon,  and  called  itself  Washington,  after 
the  General  of  that  name.  Indian  Whulgeamish 
and  Yankee  Whulge rs  were  reasonably  polite  to 
each  other,  the  Pacific  Railroad  was  to  be  built 
straightway,  Ormus  and  Ind  were  to  become  trib- 
utary. It  was  the  epoch  of  hope,  but  fruition 
has  not  yet  come.  Savages  and  Yankees  have 
since  been  scalping  each  other  in  the  most  un- 
civil way,  the  P.  R.  R.  creeps  slowly  outward, 
Ormus  and  Ind. are  chary  of  tribute.  Dreams  of 
growth  are  faster  than  growth. 

Tlie  persons  of  my  crew  have  been  described. 


lcoj)l  the 

[appcllati 

iiaines  of 

had  prev 

'cr's  Ish 

son's  Ba} 

kcre,  1. 

in  or  La 

Ay-ay. 

S^ickntzc 

^lial  and 

Jhief.      1 

?qnallyan 

"  amisli  " 

.i-tu-so  £ 

fhcmselvc 

lations  n 

lanies,  n( 

iitei'cstinj 

ipj)mpriai 

II to  dotal 

■ut  litera 

||uil  genti 

>abt,  to  b 

fi>t  tribes, 

licir  hfe  i 


WHULGE. 


81 


They  all,  according  to  a  superstition  quite  com- 
mou  among  Indians,  declined  to  give  their  names, 
lor  c^'en  an  alias,  as  oilier  scamps  might  do,  ex- 
Icopl  the  Duke  and  Duchess,  proud  in  their  foreign 
[appcUutivcs.      I    will    substitute,    therefore,  the 
names  of  the  crew  of  anotlier  canoe  in  wliich  1 
had  previously  voyaged  from  Squally  to  Vancou- 
rer's  Island,  with  Dr.  Tolmie,  factor  of  the  Hud- 
sou's  Bay  Company  at  the  former  place.     Tliese 
ere,  1.  Unstu  or  Hahal,  the  liandsome  ;  2.  Mas- 
tu  or  La  Haclie  ;    3.  Khaadza ;    4.  Snawliaylal ; 
>.  Ay-ay-wliun,    briefly   A-wy ;    6.  Ai-tu-so  ;    7. 
S^ickutzoot ;    8.  Paicks ;    and  two  women,  Tlai- 
^lial  and  Smoikit-um-whal,  "  Smoikit"  meaning 
jhief.      They   were    of  several  different    tribes, 
jquallyamish,  Skagets,  members  of  the  different 
I'  amish  '*  that  dwell  along  the  Sound,  and  two, 
j-tu-so  and  Nuckutzoot,  proudly  distinguished 
[licmselves  as  llaida,  a  generic  name  applied  to 
lations  northward  of  Whulge.     These  ^aw  typo 
lanies,  not  without  melody  or  drollery,  may  be 
iitcresting  to  the  philo-siwash.     It  would  be  in- 
[ppmpriate  to  the  method  of  this  sketch  to  go 
iito  detail  with   regard   to   Indians  of  Whulge. 
Uit  literature  has  taken  little  notice  of  those  dis- 
iuil  gentry,  and  before  they  retreat  into  the  dim 
[ast,  to  become  suljects  of  threnody  with  other 
pst  tribes,  lot  me  chronicle  a  few  surface  facts  of 
lieir  life  and  manners. 


'I 


I] 

() 

<) 

n 

I  < 

If 


32 


THE  CANOE  AND  THE  SADDLE. 


11  '  1 


It  seems  a  sorry  thing,  but  is  really  a  wise  ad- 
monition of  Nature,  that  we  should  first  distin- 
guish in  people  their  faults  and  deformities.  The 
first  observation  when  one  of  the  Whulgeamish 
appears  is,  "  Lo  the  flat-head  !  "  Among  thorn  a 
tight-strapped  cushion  controls  the  elastic  skull 
of  childhood,  crushing  it  back  idiotic.  Now  a 
forehead  should  not  be  too  round,  or  a  nose  too 
straight,  or  a  cheek  too  ruddy,  or  a  hand  too 
small.  Nature,  however,  does  quite  well  enough 
by  tliose  she  means  to  be  flat-head  beauties.  In- 
dians do  not  recognize  this,  and  strive  to  better 
Nature.  Civilization,  beholding  the  total  failure 
of  the  skull-crushing  system,  is  warned,  and  re- 
solves to  discard  its  coxcombries  and  deformities, 
and  to  strive  to  develop,  not  to  distort,  the  body 
and  soul. 

Are  thoughts  equally  profound  to  be  suggested 
by  other  corporeal  members  of  Klalams  and  their 
brethren  ?  All  are  bow-legged.  All  of  a  sad- 
colored,  Caravaggio  brown,  through  whicli  sal- 
mon-juices exude,  and  which  is  varnished  with 
fish-oil.  All  have  coarse  black  hair,  and  are 
beardless.  Old  people  of  either  sex  are  hardly  to 
be  distinguished,  man  from  woman.  The  young 
ladies  are  not  without  charms,  and  blush  ingenu- 
ously. The  fashion  of  fish-ivory  ornaments,  hung 
to  the  lower  lip,  has  retreated  northward,  and 
glass  beads  and  necklaces  of  hiaqua,  a  shell  like 


WHULGE. 


33 


wise  ad- 
st  distin* 
es.  The 
il<^eainisli 
g  thorn  a 
stic  skull 
Now  a 
L  nose  too 
hand  too 
1  enough 
ties.  In- 
to better 
al  failure 
I,  and  re- 
formities, 
the  body 

luggested 
and  their 
)f  a  sad- 
hich  sal- 
hed  with 
and  are 
hardly  to 
le  young 
1  ingen  li- 
nts, hung 
vnvd,  and 
hell  Hke 


quill  tooth-pick,  conchologically  known  as  a 
;pecics  of  Dentalium,  have  replaced  the  disgust- 
Jng  lai)ial  appendages.  Hickory  shirts  and  wool- 
len l)lankcts  are  worn  instead  of  skin  raiment, 
nat  aprons,  and  Indian  blankets,  woven  of  the 
|jiiir  of  the  fleecy  dog.  In  fact,  except  for  paint, 
those  Indians  might  pass  well  enough  for  dirty 
azzaroni. 

Gigantic  clams,  cod,  and  otlier  maritimes,  but 
tliiofly  salmon,  are  the  food  of  the  Whulgoamish. 
Uioks  and  geese  visit  tlieir  shores,  and  arc  bagged. 
\^o  infrequent  polecat  skulks  about  their  unsa- 
ory  cabins,  and  meets  the  fatal  arrow.     Grass- 
hppcrs   and   crickets,   dried,  yield   them    pies, 
'hey  cultivate  a  few  potatoes,  pluck    plentiful 
ferries,  and  dig  sweet  kamas  bulbs  in  the  swamps, 
'ow  things  edible  are  disdained  by  them. 
Once,  the  same  summer,  as  I  voyaged  with  a 
•cw  of  the  Lummi  tribe   toward  Frazer's  River, 
hoy  discerned  a  dead  seal  grotesquely  floating 
n  the  water.     Him  they  embarked,  with  roars 
laughter,  as  his  unwieldiness  slipped  through 
|ieir  fingers  ;  and  they  supped  and  surfeited  un- 
harmed on  rancid  phoca  that  evening.     But  sal- 
ion,   netted,  hooked,  trolled,   speared,   weired, 
looped,  —  salmon  taken   by  various  sleight  of 
Lvage  skill,  —  is  the  chief  diet  of  Whulge.     In 
fie  tide-ways  toward   tlie    Sound's   mouth,   the 
Udians  archor  two  canoes  parallel,  filVirtD  A>o*^^ 

2*  c 


•  * 

•  I 

!1 

i  ■ 
I) 
I J 

i  ' 

u 


{ 


) 


if 


84 


THE  CANOE  AND  THE  SADDLE. 


ii!:!!' 


Ill 


apart,  and  stretch  a  flat  net  of  strips  of  inner 
bark  between  them,  sinking  it  just  below  tlio  | 
surl'ace.  They  don  a  head-gear  hke  a  "  rat's 
nest,"  confcctcd  of  wool,  feathers,  furry  tails,  rib- 
bons, and  rags,  considered  attractive  to  salmon, 
and  "  hyas  tamanoiis,"  higlily  magical.  Salmon, 
either  wending  their  unconscious  way,  or  tuft- 
hunting  for  the  enchantments  of  the  magic  cap, 
come  swimming  in  shoals  across  the  suspended 
net.  Whereupon  every  fisher,  with  inconceivable 
screeches,  whoops,  and  howls,  beats  the  water  to 
bewilder  the  silver  swimmers,  and,  hauling  up  the 
net,  chitches  them  by  dozens.  Sometimes  fleets 
of  canoes  go  a  trolling,  one  fislierman  in  each 
slight  shallop.  He  fastens  his  lino  to  his  paddle, 
and  as  he  paddles  trolls.  A  pretty  sight  to  be- 
hold is  a  rocky  bay  of  Whulge,  gay  with  a  fleet  of 
these  agile  dug-outs,  and  ever  and  anon  illumined 
with  a  gleam  when  a  salmon  takes  the  bait.  Li 
the  voyage  I  have  mentioned  with  Dr.  Tolmic,  a 
squadron  of  such  troilers  near  the  Indian  village 
of  Kowitchiu  crowded  about  us,  praying  to  be 
vaccinated,  and  paying  a  salmon  for  the  privilege. 
Small-pox  is  the  fatalest  foe  of  the  Indian. 

Spearmen  also  for  food  are  the  siwashes.  In 
muddy  streams,  where  Boston  eyes  would  detcc! 
nothing,  Indian  sees  a  ripple,  and  divines  a  fish. 
lie  darts  his  long  wooden  spear,  and  out  it  rico 
chcts,  with  a  banner  of  salmon  at  its  point.    But ,, 


wciircrs ; 


Hil: 


WIIULCE. 


r5 


of  inner 
3lo\v  the 
a  '*  rat's 
tails,  rib- 
salmon, 
Salmon,  I 
or  tult- 
lagic  cap, 
iispeiided 
nceival)le 
1  water  to 
ig  up  the 
lies  fleets 
I  in  each 
is  paddle, 
:lit  to  be- 
a  fleet  of  1 
illumined 
bait.     In 
Tolmie,  a 
an  village 
ng  to  be 
privilege, 
m. 

shes.  In 
Id  deteci 
les  a  fish. 
t  it  rico 
iut     Bui 


salmon  may  escape  the  cofpicttisli  charms  *  f  the 

trolliiig-hook,  may  salcly  run  the  gauntlet  of  tho 

j)arallel  canoes  and  their  howliuir,  tanianoiis-cap 

>vcai"ers;    the    spear,  misguided   in    the   (haindy 

gloiui,    may    glance   harn»K>s   IVom    i-calo-armed 

lioulilers  :  still  otiier  jterils  await  them.      Tlieiie 

ii>l()s  of  the  waters  need  change  of  scene.     lUuh- 

)eily  fish  may  dwell  through  a  life-long  pickle  in 

he  briny  deep,  and  grow  rancid  there  like  olives 

(»o  salt,  hut   the  delicate   salmon    nm^^t   have   his 

iiblilo  IVom  the  briinnen.     iJosidcs,  his  yonthi'nl 

amily.  tlie  i*ari-s,  must  bo  cradled  on  the  ripj»le.> 

r  a  miming  stream,  and    in    innocent   nooks   of 

Ve^hness  nmst  esta!)li>h  their  vigor  and   consi>t- 

ncy,  before  they  brave  the  risks  of  cosmopolitan 

cean  life.     For  such  reasons   gentleman  salmon 

eks  the  rivers,  and  Indian,  expecting  him  there, 

uilds  a   palisade  of  poles   athwart  the   stream. 

he  traveller,  thus  ol>strncted,  whisks  his  tail,  and 

asts  along,  seeking  a  passage.    He  finds  one,  and 

asiies  thi-ongh,   l)ut  is  ;5toj»ped   by  a   shield   of 

icker-work,  and,  turning  blindly,  plunges  into  a 

dj-pot,  set  to  take  him  as  he  whirls  to  retreat, 

wildered. 

At  the  magnificent  Cascades  of  the  Columbia, 
le  second-best  water  bit  on  our  continent,  there 
more  exciting  salmon-fisiiing  in  the  splendid 
nnoil  of  the  rapids.  Over  the  shoots,  between 
aiders  and  rifts  of  rock,  the  indiaus  rig  a  scaf- 


lo 


i: 

'I 

ii 

(J 
1) 

'.! 


86 


THE   CANOIC   AND    TIIK   SADDLE. 


foldinjr,  and  sweep  down  stream  with  a  geoop-net 
Salmon,  working  their  way  np  in  high  exljilara- 
tion,  arc  taken  twenty  an  hour,  by  every  scoo})cr. 
lie  lifts  them  out,  l»rilliantly  sheeny,  and,  ffivin<,' 
them,  with  a  hlow  from  a  billet  of  wood,  a  hint  to 
bo  peaceable,  hands  over  each  thirty-ponnder  to 
a  hii^ty  altac/i^,  who,  in  turn,  lugs  them  away  to 
the  squaws  to  be  cleaned  and  dried. 

Tims  in  Whulge  and  at  the  Cascades  the  sal- 
mon is  taken.  And  now  l)ehold  him  caught, 
and  lying  dewy  in  silver  death,  briglit  as  an  un« 
alloyed  dollar,  varnished  with  opaline  iridescence. 
"  How  shall  he  be  cooked  ?  "  asks  squaw  of  sachem. 
"  Boil  him,  entoia,  my  beloved  "  (Haida  tongue), 
"in  a  mighty  pot  of  iron,  plumping  in  store  of 
wapatoo,  which  pasaiooks,  the  pale-faces,  name 
potatoes.  Or,  my  cloocheman,  my  squaw,  roast 
of  his  thicker  parts  sundry  chunks  on  a  spit.  Or, 
best  of  all,  split  and  broil  him  on  an  upright  frame- 
work, a  perpendicular  gridiron  of  aromatic  twigs. 
Thus  by  highest  simple  art,  before  the  ruddy 
blaze,  with  breezes  circumambient  and  wafting 
aAvay  any  mephitic  kitcheny  exhalations,  he  will 
toast  deliciously,  and  I  will  feast  thereupon,  0 
my  cloocheman,  whilst  thou,  0  working  partner 
of  our  house,  art  preparing  these  brother  fish  to 
be  dried  into  amber  transparency,  or  smoked  in 
a  lachrymose  cabin,  that  we  may  sustain  ourselves 
through  dry-ftsli  Lent,  after  this  fresh-fxsh  Carni' 


Only  a 
and    to 
shores. 
All  r 
tire  men 
bet  wee  1 
fleets  n 
cular  tl] 
stoutly 
or  dippe 
saw  me 
a  Palini 
Jexcusal) 
iSlie  was 
horus. 
song,  lik 
iiess,  anc 
the   cre^ 


WHtTCR. 


37 


oop-net 
jxbilara- 
scooju^r. 
I,  jrivin<,' 
a  l.int  to 
iimicr  to 
away  to 


ral  18  over.**  Such  discussions  occur  not  seldom 
in  the  drama  of  Indian  life. 

In  tjjo  Buccntaur,  after  our  lunch  on  kippered 
cod  and  biscuits,  we  liad  not  tarried.  Generally 
in  that  region,  in  breezcless  days  of  August, 
smoke  from  burning  forests  falls,  and  envelops  all 
the  world  of  land  and  water.  In  such  strange 
cliaos,  voyaging  without  a  compass  is  impossible. 
Canoes  are  often  detained  for  days,  waiting  for 
the  smoke  to  lift.  To-day,  fortunately  for  my 
progress,  there  was  a  fresh  breeze  from  China-way. 
Only  a  soft  golden  haze  hung  among  the  pines, 
and  toned  the  swarthy  coloring  of  the  rocky 
shores. 

All  now  in  good  humor,  and  Col.  Colt  in  re- 
tirement, w^e  swept  along  through  narrow  straits, 
between  piny  islands,  and  by  sheltered  bays  where 
fleets  might  lie  hidden.  With  harmonious  mus- 
{cular  throes,  in  time  with  Indian  songs,  the  three 
I  stoutly  paddled.  The  Duke  generally  sogered, 
or  dipped  his  blade  with  sham  vehemence,  as  ho 
saw  me  observing  him.  Olyman  steered  steadily, 
a  Palinurus  skilful  and  sleepless.  Jenny  Lind, 
jexcusal)le  idler,  did  not  belie  her  musical  name. 
[She  was  our  prima  donna,  and  leader  of  the 
horus.  Often  she  uttered  careless  bursts  of 
song,  like  sudden  slants  of  rays  through  cloudi- 
ness, and  often  droned  some  drowsy  lay,  to  which 
the   crew   responded  with    disjointed,   lurching 


1 1 

rS 

t 

w 

I ) 
I ) 

\^ 
l» 


38 


THE  CANOE  AND  THE  SADDLE. 


rcfriiii.  Few  of  ilieso  aii\s  were  musical  according 
to  civilized  fc<tandards.  Some  had  touches  of  wild 
seiitinieiit  or  power,  hut  most  were  grotesque 
comliiiiatious  of  guttural  howls.  In  all,  however, 
there  were  tones  and  strains  of  irregular  original- 
ity, sui'ging  up  tiirougli  monotony,  or  gleams  of 
savage  ire  suddenly  flashing  forth,  and  recalling 
how  one  has  seen,  with  shudders,  a  shark,  with 
white  sierras  of  teeth,  gnash  upon  him  not  far 
distant,  from  a  l)ath  in  a  tropic  bay.  I  found  a 
singular  consolation  in  the  unleavened  music  of 
my  crew.  Wiiy  should  there  not  he  throl)s  of 
rude  j)ower  in  aboriginal  song?  It  is  well  to  re- 
view the  rudiments  sometimes,  and  see  whether 
we  have  done  all  we  might  iu  building  systems 
from  the  primal  hints. 

The  songs  of  Chin  Lin,  Duchess  of  York,  cho- 
russed  by  the  fishy,  seemed  a  consoling  peace- 
ollering.  The  undertone  of  sorrow  iu  all  music 
clieats  us  of  grief  for  our  own  distress.  To  coun- 
teract the  miseries  of  civilization,  we  must  have 
the  tender,  passionate  despairs  of  Favorita  and 
Traviata  ;  for  the  disgusts  of  barbarism  I  found  , 
Indian  howls  sufficient  relief. 

By  and  by,  with  sunset,  paddle-songs  died  away, 
and  the  Hucentaur  slowed.  The  tide  had  turned, 
ai.d  was  urgently  against  us.  My  tired  crew 
were  od  ily  dr()pj)ing  oif  to  sleep.  We  landed  on 
Uie  shingle  i'oi  repose  and  supper.     Twilight  was 


a  I  read 
pourii] 
tesque 
shore 
i^cniljla 
idols,   I 
iconocl 
have  b 
Caucas 
spark, 
iii  a  m 
those  h( 
a  glory 
forest  a 
On  t 
by  my 
while  til 
fish  and 
5  and  wovi 
I  mind,  I, 
pot  of  te 
idso  unp 
Ifrom  tlie 
Jcaough  1 
jitst^jf  wit 
Jthe  pyre 
|(of  their 
laud    roa 
tongues  ( 
almost  fi( 


WHULGE, 


89 


irdlng 
f  wild 
;csquG 
vc'ver, 
igiiuil- 
Lins  of 
calling 
{,  with 
lot   far 
)iiud  a 
usic  of 
•obs  of 
I  to  re- 
v'hether 
systeais 

•k,  cho- 
peace- 

l  iHUsic 

o  coun- 
st  have 

lita  and 
found 

Id  away, 
turned, 
[d  cr<3W 
hucd  on 
irht  was 


I 


already  spreading  downward  from  the  zenith,  and 
pouring  gloom  among  the  soml)re  pines.  Gro- 
tesque musses  of  blanched  drift-wood  strewed  tho 
shore  and  grouped  themselves  about,  —  strange 
semblances  of  monstrous  sliapes,  like  amorphous 
idols,  detiironed  and  waiting  to  perisli  by  tho 
iconoclastic  test  of  fire.  Poor  Prometbeus  may 
liave  been  badly  punished  by  that  cruel  fowl  of 
Caucasus,  but  we  mortals  got  the  uncpienchablo 
spark.  I  carried  a  modicum  of  compact  flame 
in  a  match-box,  and  soon  bad  a  funeral  pyre  of 
tliosc  heatlienisli  stumps  and  roots  well  ablaze,  — 
a  glory  of  light  between  tiie  solemn  wall  of  the 
forest  and  the  dark  glimmering  flood. 

On  the  romantic  shores  of  Whulire,  illumined 

by  my  fire,  1  had  toasted  salt  pork  for  supper, 

wbile  tlie  siwashes  banqueted  to  repletion  on  dried 

fisli  and  the  unaccustomed  luxury  of  hard-tack, 

and  were  genially  happy.    But  when,  with  kindly 

mind,  I,  tbeir  ciiieltain,  brewed  tbem  a  princely 

pot  of  tea,  and  tossed  in  sugar  lavishly,  sprinkling 

I  also  unperceivedly  the  beverage  with  forty  drops 

[from  tlie  captured  lumoti,  and  gave  them  tobacco 

enough  to  blow  a  cloud,  then  happiness  capped 

itself  with  gayety  and  merriment.     Tliey  heaped 

the  pyre  with  fuel,  and  made  it  the  chief  jester 

(of  their  jolly  circle,  cluickl'ug  wlien  it  crackled. 

Liid    roaring    witii     laughter   when    tho   frantic 

tongues  of  flame  leaped  up,  and  shot  a  glare, 

ilmost  fiendish,  over  the  wild  scene. 


C:; 


•4 


r  J 

jj 

I  5 
t] 

!  • 

«i 
l» 


m 


THE   CAXOE   AND   TIIE   SADDLE. 


I  sat  apart  with  my  dluideen,  studying  the 
occasion  for  its  lesson.  "  Would  I  be  an  Indian, 
—  a  duke  of  the  Klalams  ? "  I  asked  myself. 
"  As  mucli  as  I  am  to-night,  —  no  more,  and  no 
longer.  To-night  I  am  a  demi-savage,  jolly  for 
my  rest  and  my  supper,  and  content  because  my 
hampers  hold  enougli  for  to-morrow.  I  can  iden- 
tify myself  thoroughly,  and  delight  that  I  can 
with  the  untamed  natures  of  my  comrades.  ] 
can  yield  myself  to  the  dominion  of  the  sama 
impulses  that  sway  them  out  of  impassiveness 
into  frantic  excitement.  They  sit  here  over  the 
fire,  now  jabbering  lustily,  and  now  silent  and 
drifting  along  currents  of  association,  undivert- 
ed by  discursive  thought,  until  some  pervading 
fancy  strikes  them  all  at  once,  and  again  all  is 
animation  and  guttural  sputter  of  sympathy.  I 
can  also  let  myself  go  bobbing  down  the  tide  of 
thoughtless  thought,  until  I  am  caught  by  the 
same  shoals,  or  checked  by  the  same  reef,  or 
launched  upon  the  same  tumultuous  seas,  as 
they.  These  influences  are  primeval,  aboriginal, 
fresh,  enlivening  for  their  anti-cockney  savor. 
Wretchedly  slab-sided,  and  not  at  all  fitting 
among  the  many-sided,  is  he  who  cannot  adapt 
himself  to  the  dreams  and  hopes,  the  awes  and 
pleasures  of  savage  life,  and  be  as  good  a  savage 
as  the  brassiest  Brass-skin. 

"However,  it  is  not  amiss,"   continued  ray 


t 


It  IS  e? 

the  loc 

remain 

and  not 

cere  ma 

his  quai 

comes  0 

with  th( 

point  of 

Had  : 

ture,  m^ 

asleep 

themsel 

after    la 

of  treac 

more  ph 

[have  bee 

[under  tl 

jtlie  Duke 

Isacrificec 

Itlie  year, 

(ever,  the 

fered  no 

rolled   ar 

returned 


"^^HULGE. 


n 


goliloqnr,  puffing  itself  away  with  the  last  whiffs 
of  my  pipe,  "  to  have  the  large  results  of  the 
world's  secular  toil  in  posse.  It  is  sometimes 
pleasant  to  lay  aside  tlie  resumable  ermine. 
It  is  easy  to  linger  while  one  has  a  hand  upon 
the  locomotive's  valve.  I  will,  on  the  whole, 
remain  an  American  of  the  nineteenth  century, 
and  not  subside  into  a  Klalam  brave.  Every  sin- 
cere man  has,  or  ought  to  have,  his  differences  or 
his  quarrels  with  status  quo,  —  otherwise  what  be- 
comes of  the  millennium  ?  My  personal  grudge 
with  the  present  has  not  yet  brought  me  to  the 
point  of  rupture  and  reaction." 

Had  I  uttered  these  reflections  in  a  prosy  lec- 
ture, my  fishy  suite  could  not  have  been  sounder 
asleep  than  they  now  were.  They  had  coiled 
themselves  about  the  fire,  in  genuine  slumber, 
after  labor  and  overfeeding.  Without  dread 
of  treacliery,  I  bivc  lacked  near  them.  I  was 
more  placable  and  loss  watchful  than  I  should 
have  been  had  I  known  that  the  Kahtai  Klalams, 
I  under  the  superintendence  of  King  George  and 
the  Duke,  were  in  the  habit  of  murdering.  They 
sacrificed  a  couple  of  pale-faced  victims  within 
tlie  year,  as  I  afterwards  was  informed.  How- 
ie ver,  the  lamb  lay  down  with  the  wolf,  and  suf- 
pered  no  harm.  From  time  to  time  I  awoke,  and 
rolled  another  log  upon  the  pyre,  and  theu 
returned  to  my  uneasy  naps  on  the  pebbles, — 


a: 

*  fl 

r   ] 
»    « 


r 


f  1 

;  J 


{ 


] 


p  1 


42 


THE   CAMOE  AND  THE  SADDLE. 


uneasy,  not  because  the  pebbles  dimpled  me  some- 
what harshly  through  my  blankets,  not  because 
the  inextinguishable  stars  winked  at  me  fantasti- 
cally through  ether,  nor  because  my  scalp  occa- 
sionally gave  premonitions  of  departure  ;  but  be- 
cause I  did  not  wish,  when  offered  the  boon  of  a 
favorable  tide,  to  be  asleep  at  my  post  and  miss  it. 
A  new  flood-tide  was  about  to  be  sent  whirl- 
mg  up  into  the  bays  and  coves  and  nooks  of 
Whulge  when  I  shook  up  my  sobered  hero  of 
the  libellous  teapots,  shook  up  Olyman  and  his 
young  men,  and  touched  the  Duchess  lightly  on 
the  shoulder,  as  she  lay  with  her  red-chevroned 
visage  turned  toward  the  zenith.  The  Duke 
alone  grumbled,  and  shirked  the  toil  of  launching 
the  Bucentaur.  We  others  went  at  it  heartily, 
dragging  our  vessel  down  the  shingle  to  the  cho- 
rus of  a  guttural  De  Prufundis,  It  was  an  hour 
before  dawn.  We  reloaded,  and  shoved  off  uito 
the  chill,  star-lighted  void,  —  a  void  where  one 
might  doubt  whether  the  upper  stars  or  the  nether 
stars  were  the  real  orbs.  Our  red  fire  watched  us 
as  we  sailed  away,  glaring  after  us  like  a  Cyclops 
sentinel  until  we  rounded  a  point  and  passed  out 
of  his  range,  only  to  find  ourselves  sadly  gazed  at 
by  a  pale,  lean  moon  just  lifting  above  the  pines. 
With  the  flames  of  dawn  a  wind  arose  and  lent  us 
wings.  1  succeeded  in  inspiring  my  crew  with  a 
stolid  intention  to  speed  me.    A  comi-ade-ry  grew 


WHULGE. 


48 


up  between  me  and  the  truculent  blackguard 
who  wielded  the  bow  paddle,  so  that  he  essayed 
unintelligent  civilities  from  time  to  time,  and 
when  we  landed  to  breakfast,  at  a  point  where  a 
giant  arbor-vita?  stood  a  rich  pyramid  of  green,  ho 
brought  me  sallal-berries,  and  arbutus-leaves  to 
dry  for  smoking ;  meaning  perhaps  to  play  Cali- 
ban to  my  Stephano,  and  worshipping  him  who 
bore  the  lumoti.  The  Duke  remained  either  *'hy- 
as  kla  bye  am,"  in  the  wretcbed  dumps,  or  "  hyas 
silex,"  in  the  deep  sulks,  as  must  happen  after 
an  orgie,  even  to  a  princely  personage.  I  could 
get  nothing  from  him,  either  in  philology  or  le- 
gend, —  nothing  but  the  Klalam  name  of  Whulge, 
K'uk'lults.  However,  thanks  to  a  strong  fol- 
lowing wind  and  a  blanket-sail,  we  sped  on,  never 
flinching  from  the  tide  when  it  turned  and  bat- 
tled us. 

We  had  rounded  a  point,  and  opened  Puyallop 
[Bay,  a  breadth  of  sheltered  calmness,  when  I,  lift- 
ing sleepy  eyelids  for  a  dreamy  stare  about,  was 
[suddenly  aware  of  a  vast  white  shadow  in  the 
Iwater.  What  cloud,  piled  massive  on  the  hori- 
!on,  could  cast  an  image  so  sharp  in  outline,  so 
full  of  vigorous  detail  of  surface  ?     No  cloud,  as 

ly  stare,  no  longer  dreamy,  presently  discovered, 
no  cloud,  but  a  cloud  compeller.     It  was  a 

jiant  mountain  dome  of  snow,  swelling  and  seem- 
ing to  ^1  the  aerial  spheres  as  its  image  displace! 


«(j 


u 


THE  CANOE  AND  THE  SADDLE. 


tlie  blue  deeps  of  tranquil  water.  The  smoky 
haze  of  an  Oregon  August  hid  all  the  length  of 
its  lesser  ridges,  and  left  this  mighty  summit 
based  upon  uplifting  dimness.  Only  its  splendid 
snows  were  visible,  high  in  the  unearthly  regions 
of  clear  blue  noonday  sky.  Tlie  shore  line  drew 
a  cincture  of  pines  across  the  broad  base,  where 
it  faded  unreal  into  the  mist.  The  same  dark 
girth  separated  the  peak  from  its  reflection,  over 
which  my  canoe  was  now  pressing,  and  sending 
wavering  swells  to  shatter  the  beautiful  vision 
before  it. 

Kingly  and  alone  stood  this  majesty,  without 
any  visible  comrade  or  consort,  though  far  to 
the  north  and  the  south  its  brethren  and  sisters 
dominated  tlieir  realms,  each  in  isolated  sover- 
eignty, rising  above  the  pine-darkened  sierra  of 
the  Cascade  Mountains,  —  above  the  stern  chasm 
where  th^e  Columbia,  Achilles  of  rivers,  sweeps, 
short-lived  and  jubilant,  to  die  sea,  —  above  the 
lovely  vales  of  the  Willamette  and  Umpqua.  Of 
all  the  peaks  from  California  to  Frazer's  River, 
tliis  one  before  me  was  royalest.  Mount  Reg- 
nier  Christians  have  dubbed  it,  in  stupid  nomen- 
clature perpetuating  the  name  of  somebody  or 
nobody.  More  melodiously  the  siwashes  call  it 
Tiacoma,  —  a  generic  term  also  applied  to  all 
snow  peaks.  Whatever  keen  crests  and  crags 
there  may  be  in  its  rock  anatomy  of  basalt,  snow 


WHULGE. 


45 


covers  softly  with  its  bends  and  sweeping  curves. 
Tacoraa,  under  its  ermine,  is  a  crushed  volcanic 
dome,  or  an  ancient  volcano  fallen  in,  and  per- 
haps as  yet  not  wholly  lifeless.  The  domes  of 
Buow  are  stateliest.  There  may  be  more  of  femi- 
nine beauty  in  the  cones,  and  more  of  masculine 
force  and  hardihood  in  the  rough  pyramids,  but 
the  great  domes  are  calmer  and  more  divine, 
and,  even  if  they  have  failed  to  attain  absolute 
dignified  grace  of  finish,  and  are  riven  and  broken 
down,  they  still  demand  our  sympathy  for  giant 
power,  if  only  partially  victor.  Each  form  —  the 
dome,  the  cone,  and  the  pyramid  —  has  its  type 
among  the  great  snow  peaks  of  the  Cascades. 

And  now  let  the  Duke  of  York  drowse,  the 
Duchess  cease  awhile  longer  her  choking  chant, 
and  the  rest  nap  it  on  their  paddles,  floating 
on  the  image  of  Tacoma,  while  I  ask  recognition 
for  the  almost  unknown  glories  of  the  Cascade 
Mountains  of  Oregon.  We  are  poorly  oif  for 
such  objects  east  of  the  Mississippi.  There  are 
some  roughish  excrescences  known  as  the  Alle- 
jghanies.  There  is  a  knobby  group  of  brownish 
j  White  Mountains.  Best  of  all,  high  in  Down- 
East  is  the  lonely  Katahdin.  Hillocks  these, — 
never  among  them  one  single  summit  brilliant 
forever  with  snow,  golden  in  sunshine,  silver 
I  when  sunshine  has  gone  ;  not  one  to  bloom  rosy 
at  dawn,  and  to  be  a  vision  of  refreshment  all  the 


r  i 

••it" 

**    4 

t1 

t 

«     « 


i] 


i  5 
•  * 


46 


THE  CANOE  AND  THE  SADDLE. 


sultry  summer  long;  not  one  to  be  lustrous  wliito 
over  leagues  of  woodland,  sombre  or  tender  , 
not  one  to  repeat  the  azure  of  heaven  among  its 
shadowy  dells.  Exaltation  such  as  the  presence 
of  thr  sublime  and  solemn  heights  arouses,  we 
dwellers  eastward  cannot  have  as  an  abiding  in- 
fluence. Other  things  we  may  have,  for  Nature 
will  not  let  herself  anywhere  be  scorned ;  but 
only  mountains,  and  chiefest  the  giants  of  snow,  I 
can  teach  wliatever  lessons  there  may  be  in  vaster  i 
distances  and  deeper  depths  of  palpable  ether,  in  | 
lonely  grandeur  without  desolation,  and  in  the 
illimitable,  bounded  within  an  outline.  There- 
fore, needing  ail  these  emotions  at  thoir  max- 
imum, we  were  compelled  to  make  pilgrimages 
back  to  the  mountains  of  the  Old  World,  — 
commodiously  as  may  be  when  we  consider 
sea-sickness,  passports,  Murray's  red-covers,  and 
h-less  Britons  everywhere.  Yes,  back  to  the  Old? 
World  we  went,  and  patronized  the  Alps,  and| 
nobly  satisfying  we  found  them.  But  Ave  were! 
forced  to  inspect  also  the  heritage  of  human 
institutions,  and  such  a  mankind  as  they  hadj 
made  after  centuries  of  opportunity,  —  and  veryl 
sadly  depressing  we  found  the  work,  so  that, 
notwithstanding  many  romantic  joys  and  artistic, 
pleasures,  we  came  back  malecontent.  Let  us, 
therefore,  develop  our  own  world.  It  has  taken? 
us  two  centuries  to  discover  our  proper  Weslj 


WHULGE. 


47 


across  the  Mississippi,  and  to  know  by  indefinite 
hearsay  that  among  the  groups  of  the  Rockys 
are  heights  worth  notice. 

Farthest  away  in  tlie  west,  as  near  the  westorn 
sea  as  mountains  can  stand,  are  the  Cascades. 
Sailors  can  descry  their  landmark  summits  firmer 
tlian  cloud,  a  hundred  miles  away.  Kulbhan, 
misnamed  Mount  Baker  by  the  vulgar,  is  their 
northernmost  buttress  up  at  49°  and  Frazer's  Riv- 
er. Kulbhan  is  an  irregular,  massive,  mouiid- 
shapcd  peak,  worthy  to  stand  a  white  emblem 
of  perpetual  peace  between  us  and  our  brother 
Britons.  Tlie  northern  regions  of  Wluilge  and 
Vancouver's  Island  have  Kulshan  upon  their  ho- 
rizon. They  saw  it  blaze  the  winter  before  this 
journey  of  mine  ;  for  there  is  fire  beneath  the  Cas- 
cades, red  war  suppressed  where  the  peaks,  sym- 
bols of  truce,  stand  in  resplendent  quiet.  Kul- 
shan is  best  seen,  as  I  saw  it  one  afternoon  of 
that  same  August,  from  an  upland  of  Vancouver's 
Island,  across  the  golden  waves  of  a  wheat-field, 
across  the  glimmering  waters  of  the  Georgian 
Sound,  and  far  above  its  belt  of  misty  gray  pine- 
ridges.  The  snow-line  here  is  at  five  thousand 
feet,  and  Kulshan  has  as  much  height  in  snow 
as  in  forest  and  vegetation.  Its  name  I  got  from 
the  Lummi  tribe  at  its  base,  after  1  had  dipped 
in  their  pot  at  a  boiled-salmon  feast.  As  to  Ba- 
ker, that  name  should  be  forgotten.     Mountains 


1 


I 


a 
{ 

t  I 


48 


THE  CANOE  AND  THE  SADDLE. 


should  not  be  insulted  by  being  named  after 
undistinguished  bipeds,  nor  by  the  prefix  of  Mt, 
Mt.  Chimborazo,  or  Mt.  Dhawalaghiri,  seems  as 
feeble  as  Mr.  Julius  Caesar,  or  Signor  Dante. 

South  of  Kulshan,  the  range  continues  dark, 
rough,  and  somewhat  unmeaning  to  the  eye, 
until  it  is  relieved  by  Tacoma,  vulgo  Regnier. 
Upon  this  Tacoma's  image  I  was  now  drifting, 
and  was  about  to  make  nearer  acquaintance  with 
its  substance.  One  cannot  know  too  much  of  a 
nature's  nobleman.  Tacoma  the  second,  which 
Yankees  call  Mt.  Adams,  is  a  clumsier  repetition 
of  its  greater  brother,  but  noble  enough  to  be 
the  pride  of  a  continent.  Dearest  charmer  of 
all  is  St.  Helen's,  queen  of  the  Cascades,  queen 
of  Northern  America,  a  fair  and  graceful  vol- 
canic cone.  Exquisite  mantling  snows  sweep 
along  her  shoulders  toward  the  bristling  pines. 
Sometimes  she  showers  her  realms  with  a  boon 
of  light  ashes,  to  notify  them  that  her  peace  is 
repose,  not  stupor,  and  sometimes  lifts  a  beacon 
of  tremulous  flame  by  night  from  her  summit. 
Not  far  from  her  base  the  Columbia  crashes 
through  the  mountains  in  a  magnificent  chasm, 
and  Mt.  Hood,  the  vigorous  prince  of  the  range, 
rises  in  a  keen  pyramid  fourteen  or  sixteen  thmi- 
sand  feet  high,  rivalling  his  sister  in  glory.  Mt. 
Jefleroon  and  others  southward  are  worthy  snowj 
peaks,  but  not  comparable  with  these;  and  then  I 


WIIILGK. 


40 


^liis  masterly  family  of  mountains  dwindles  rug- 
gedly  away  toward  California   and   the   Shasta 

The  Cascades  are  known  to  geography,  —  their 
|ummits  to  the  lists  of  volcanoes.  Several  gen- 
lemeu  in  the  United  States  Army,  hored  in  petty 
[osts,  or  squinting  along  Indian  trails  for  Pacific 
lilroads,  have  seen  these  monuments.  A  few 
lyriads  of  Oregonians  have  not  been  able  to 
void  seeing  them,  have  perhaps  felt  their  enno- 
iiiig  influence,  and  have  written,  boasting  that 
t.  Helen's  or  Hood  is  as  high  as  Blanc.  Enter- 
rising  fellows  have  climbed  both.  But  the  mil- 
)iis  of  Yankees  —  from  codfish  to  alligators, 
lowers  of  spruce-gum  or  chewers  of  pig-tail, 
pks  of  chowder  or  cooks  of  gumbo  —  know 
[tie  of  these  treasures  of  theirs.  Poet  comes 
[ig  after  pioneer.  Mountains  have  been  wait- 
j,  even  in  ancient  worlds,  for  cycles,  while 
mkind  looked  upon  them  as  high,  cold,  dreary, 
[isliing,  as  resorts  for  demons  and  homes  of 
solating  storms.  It  is  only  lately,  in  the  de- 
[opment  of  men's  comprehension  of  nature,  that 
[untains  have  been  recognized  as  our  noblest 
Jnds,  our  most  exalting  and  inspiring  comrades, 
grandest  emblems  of  divine  power  and  divhie 
ice. 

wore  of  these  majesties  of  the  Cascades  here- 
|r ;  but  now  meseems  that  I  have  long  enough 

3  D 


4 


E  -^ 


'  I 

I  1 

i  ) 

>  > 


no 


THE  CANOE  AND  THE  SADDLE. 


interrupted  tlio  desultory  progress  of  my  iiarraj 
live.  Wc  have  Uoatcd  long  enough,  my  Klalar 
braves,  on  the  white  reflection  of  Tacoma.  Tj 
thy  paddle,  then,  sluggard  Duke.  Dip  and  ploid 
into  Whulge,  ye  salmon-led.  Squally  and  bluLJ 
kets  be  the  war-cry  of  our  voyage. 

But  first  obey  the  injunction  of  an  Indian  diltjj 
oddly  sung  to  the  air  of  Malbrook  :  — 

Kliitnwnh  ocook  polikely, 
Klutawab  Steilucoom"; 

"  Go  to-night,  —  go  to  Steilacoom."  Steilacooa 
w^as  a  military  post  a  mile  inland  from  Wluild 
It  had  a  port  on  the  Sound,  consisting  of  ofj 
warehouse,  where  every  requisite  of  pioneer  li: 
was  to  be  had.  Thither  I  directed  my  cour?^ 
pork  and  hard-tack  to  buy,  compact  prog  for  iij 
mountain  journey.  Also,  because  I  could  not  riJ 
the  leagues  of  a  transcontinental  trip,  barebacj 
ing  the  bonyness  of  prairie  nags,  a  friend  li^ 
given  me  an  order  for  a  capital  saddle  of  iJ 
stored  there.  The  crafty  trader  at  Port  Stei!] 
coom  denied  the  existence  of  my  friend's  Cii 
fornia  saddle,  a  grandly  roomy  one  I  had  oU 
bestrode,  and  substituted  for  it  an  incoherej 
dragoon  saddle.  He  hoped,  the  scamp,  that 
friend  would  never  return  to  claim  his  proper 
and  he  would  be  left  residuary  legatee. 

Some  strange  Indians  lounging  here  gave  mi 


WIIULGE. 


61 


helpful  fact.  Tho  Klickatats,  so  tho  Sound  In- 
dians name  generally  the  Yakimahs  and  other 
ultramontane  trihcs,  had  just  arrived  at  Nisqual- 
ly,  on  their  annual  trading-trip.  Horses  and  a 
guide  I  could  surely  get  from  them  for  crossing 
the  Cascades  into  their  country.  Hero  I  heaid 
first  the  mighty  name  of  Owhhigh,  a  chief  of  the 
Klickatats,  tiieir  noblest  horse-thief,  their  Diomed. 
lie  was  at  Nisqually,  with  his  tail  on,  —  his  tail 
of  bare-legged  highlanders,  —  buying  blankets 
and  sundries,  with  skins,  furs,  and  stolen  steeds. 
Squally,  euphonized  to  Nisqually,  is  six  or 
seven  miles  from  Steilacoom.  Wo  sped  along 
near  the  shore,  just  away  from  the  dense  droop 
of  the  water-wooing  arbor-vitOB  pyramids. 

"  How   now,   my    crew  ?      Why   this  sudden 
I  chock?     Why  this  agitated  panic?     What,  Doo- 
keryawk  !     Arc  ye  paralyzed  by  TamanoUs,  by 
Idemoniacal  influence  ?  " 

"  By  fear  are  we  paralyzed,  0  kind  protector," 
Iresponded  the  Klalam.     "  Foes  to  us  always  are 
jthe  Squallyamish.     But  more  cruel  foes  are  tho 
nountain   horsemen.      We    dare    not    advance. 
^JIloway  quash  nesika  ;  cowards  all  are  we.** 
''  Fear  naught,  my  cosvards.     The  retinue  of 
ly  high  mightiness  is  safe,  and  shall  be  honored. 
^e  shall  not  be  maltreated,  nor  even  punished 
3y  me  for  your  misdeeds.     Have  a  mighty  heari 
n  your  breasts,  and  onward." 


''  ■  m 

(  T 
M 


c      1 


If 


52 


THE  CANOE  AND  THE  SADDLE. 


Punic  over,  we  paddled  lustily,  and  soon  landed 
at  a  higli  bluff,  —  the  port  of  Nisqually.  We| 
hauled  up  the  Bucentaur,  grateful  to  the  talismnn 
shells  along  its  gunwale,  that  tliej  had  guarded  I 
us  against  Bugaboo.  1  looked  mj  last,  for  that 
time,  upon  the  sturdy  tideu  of  Whulge,  and  led  I 
the  way  under  the  oaks  toward  the  Fort. 


IV. 


OWHHIGH. 

It  was  harsh  penance  to  a  bootless  man  to 
[ramp  the  natural  Macadam  of  minced  trap-rock 
)n  the  plateau  above  the  Sound.     The  little  peb- 
)les  of  the  adust  volcanic  pavement  cut  my  moc- 
fasined  feet  like  unboiled  peas  of  pilgrimage.     I 
larchcd  along  under  the  oaks  as  stately  as  fre- 
quent limping   permitted.      My  motley   retinue 
)llowed  me  humbly,  bearing  "  ikta,"  my  traps, 
Ind  their  own  plunder.     Their  demeanor  was 
rushed  and  cringing,  greatly  changed  since  the 
ruculcnt  scene  over  the  captured  lumoti,  which 
still  kept  as  a  trophy,  hung  at  my  waist  to  bal- 
nee  my  pistol. 

After  a  walk  of  a  mile,  with  my  body-guard 
shabby  S'Klalam  aristocrats,  1  entered  the  Hud- 
)ii's  Bay  Company's  fort  of  Nisqually.  Disrepute 
raggled  after  me,  but  my  character  was  already 
^tabhbhed  in  a  previous  visit.  I  had  left  Dr. 
)hnic,  the  factor,  at  Vancouver's  Inland  ;  Mr. 
[.,  his  substitute,  received  me  hospitably  at  the 
>tei'n.    Nisqually  is  a  palisaded  enclosui'o,  two 


t  II 


54 


THE  CANOE  AND  THE  SADDLE. 


hundred  feet  square.  Bartizan  towers  protect  its 
corners.  Witliin  are  blockhouses  for  goods  and 
furs,  and  one-story  cottages  for  residence. 

Indian  leaguers  have  of  yore  beset  this  fort. 
Indians  have  lifted  Indians  up  toward  the  fif- 
teenth and  topmost  foot  of  tlie  fir  palisades. 
Shots  from  the  loopholes  of  the  bartizans  dropped 
the  assailants,  and  left  them  lying  oA  the  natural 
Macadam  without.  Whereupon  the  survivors  ro 
tired,  and  consulted  about  fire  ;  but  that  fatal  foo 
was  also  defeated  by  the  death  of  every  incen- 
diary as  he  approached. 

To  visit  such  a  place  is  to  recall  and  illustrate 
all   our  early  New-England  history.     Our  fore- 
fathers fled,  in  King  Philip's  time,  to  just  such 
refuges.     Personal  contact  with  a  similar  state 
of  facts  makes  their  forgotten  perils  real.    In  that 
recent  antiquity,  pioneers  exposed  to  the  indis-j 
criminate  revenge  of  the  savage  flew  from  cabin 
and  clearing  to  stockades  far  less  defensible  than 
this.     Better  its  insecure  shelter   for  wife   and 
child  than  the  terror  of  a  forest  forever  seeming  i 
aglare  with  cruel  eyes, — where  the  forester  could 
never  banish  the  curdling   consciousness  of  anl 
unseen  presence,  watcliing  until  the  assassin  mo- 
ment came  ;  where  the  silence  might  hear  other  | 
sounds  than  the  hum  of  insects  or  the  music  of 
birds,  —  might  hear  the  scoffing  yell  of  Indians,  j 
contemptuous  victors  over  the  race  that  scorned  I 


ownniGH. 


65 


them.     Wliat  wonder  that  the  agonies  of  such 

suspense    stirred    up    the    settlers    to    cowardly 

shiugliter  of  every  savage,  friend   or   foe  ?     A 

friglitcned  man  becomes  a  barbarian  and  a  brute. 

Fear  is  a  miserable  agent  of  civilization.    We  can 

lliiinlly  now  connect  ourselves  with  that  period. 

No  loKger,  when  twigs  crackle  in  the  forest,  do 

hve  shrink  lest  the  parting  leaves  may  reveal  a 

|nc\v-comer,  with   wliom  we  must  race  for  life. 

Larceny   is   disgusting,  burglary   is   unpleasant, 

ivaon  is  undesirable,  murder  is  one  of  the  foul 

^u'ts ;  Indians  were  adepts  in  all  of  these  trades 

it  once.     Any  reminiscence  of  a  condition  fiom 

^vliich   we    have    happily   escaped    is   agreeable. 

riiis  pa'isade  fort  was  a  monument  of  a  past  ago 

to  nic.         :nade  me  two  hundred  years  old  at 

)iice. 

A  monument,  but  not  a  cenotaph  ;  on  the  con- 
trary, it  was  full  of  bustling  life.  Rusty  Indians, 
\n  all  degrees  of  frowzincss  of  person  and  cos- 
tume, were  trading  at  the  shop  for  the  tiiree  ^'s 
)t' Indian  desire,  —  blankets,  beads,  and  'baccy, 

rc})rcscntatives  of  need,  vanity,  and  luxury. 
The  Klickatats  had  indeed  arrived.  To-morrow 
Kvhhigh  and  the  grandees  were  to  come  in  from 
[heir  camp  to  buy  and  sell.  All  the  squaws  pur- 
'liubiiig  to-day  were  hags  beyond  the  age  of  co- 
[uetry  in  costume,  yet  they  were  buying  l)eads 
Uid  hanging  them  in  hideous  contrast  about  tlieif 


Si 


I 


r  •• 
t    ^ 

».       . 


56 


THE  CANOE  AND  THE  SADDLE. 


baggy,  wrinkled  necks,  and  then  glowering  for 
admiration  with  dusky  eyes.  Tlicse  were  valueil 
customers,  since  they  knew  the  tariff,  and  never 
haggled,  but  paid  cash  or  its  equivalent,  otter 
beaver,  and  skunk  skins,  and  similar  treasures. 
The  pretty  girls  would  come  afterward,  as  money 
failed,  and  try  to  make  their  winsome  smiles  a 
substitute  for  funds. 

In  contrast  to  these  unpleasant  objects,  a  very 
handsome  and  gentlemanly  young  brave  entered 
just  after  me,  and  came  forward  as  I  was  greet- 
ing Mr.  H.  He  was  tall  and  loungingly  graceful, 
and  so  fair  that  there  must  have  been  silver  iii 
the  copper  of  his  blood.  Tliis  rather  supercilious 
personage  was,  he  told  me,  of  Owhhigh's  band, 
not  by  nation  but  by  adoption.  He  was  a  Spo- 
kan  from  the  Upper  Columbia,  a  volunteer  among 
the  Klickatats,  perhaps  because  their  method  of 
filibusterism  was  attractive,  perhaps  because  there 
was  a  vendetta  for  him  at  home.  He  wore  a 
semi-civilized  costume,  —  coat  of  black  from  some 
far-away  slop-shop  of  Britain,  fringed  leggins  of 
buckskin  from  the  lodge  of  a  Klickatat  tailoress. 
A  broad-bcadcd  band  crossed  his  breast,  like  tho 
ribbon  of  an  order  of  nobility.  The  incongruity 
in  his  costume  was  redeemed  by  his  cool,  dig* 
uified  bearing.  He  was  an  Adonis  of  Nature, 
not  a  rubicund  Adonis  of  the  D'Orsay  type. 
While  we  talked,  he  kept  a  cavalier's  ad  van- 


OWIIHIGH. 


67 


[ag^f  not  dismounting  from  his  fiery  little  sad-« 
llelefis  black. 

Him,  by  Mr.  H.'s  advice,  I  prayed  to  be  my 

imbassadop  to  the  great  Owlihigh.     Would  that 

li«;nitary  permit  me  an  interview  to-morrow,  and 

)urvcy    me   horses   and   a   guide   for   my   dash 

lirough  his  realm  ?      My  Spokan  Adonis,  with 

le  self-possessed  courtesy  of  a  liigli-bred  Indian, 

[cocpted  the  office  of  negotiator,  and  ventured  to 

[romise  tbat  Owhhigh  would  speed  me.     But  in 

ise  Adonis  should  prove  faithless,  or  Owhhigh 

lidi(ferent,  Mr.  H.  despatched  a  messenger  at 

nee  for  one  of  the  Company's  voyagcurs,  now  a 

uiet  colonist,  who  could  resume  the  rover,  and 

Hide  me,  if  other  guidance  failed,  anywhere  in 

|io  Northwest. 

I  now  conducted  the  Duke  and  my  party  to  the 
lop,  and  served  out  to  them  one  two-and-a-half- 

)iiit  l)lanket  apiece,  and  one  to  Olyman  for  the 
uccntaur,  accompanying  the  boon  with  a  lec- 
ue  on  tbe  evils  of  intemperance  and  the  duty 

fiiitbfuhiess.  They  seemed  quite  pleased  now 
[at  they  had  not  butchered  and  scalped  me,  and 
[pressed  the  friendliest  sentiments,  perhaps  with 
iviuw  to  a  liberal  ''  potlatch  "  of  trinkets.    Tbey 

'0  besought  permission  to  encamp  in  the  fort, 

t  pillage  should  befall  them.     It  was  growing 

H'k,  and  the  different  parties  of  Indians  admit- 
within  tl\e  palisades  were  grouped,  gypsy-likot 


fid 


THE  CANOn  AND  THE  SADDLE. 


about   their  cooking-fires.     Some  of  these  iin.| 
brotherly  siwashes  cast  wolf 's-eyes  upon  my  Kla 
lams,  now  an  enviable  and  plunderable  Bquad.l 
These  latter,  wealthy  and  well-l)lanketcd,  skulkdj 
away  into  a  corner,  and  when  I  saw  them  last,  l)y 
their  fire-light,  the  Duke,  more  like  a  degraded | 
ecclesiastic  than  ever,  was  haranguing  his  family, 
while  Jenny  Lind  sat  at  his  feet,  and  bent  upoiii 
him  untruthful  eyes.     At  morn  they  were  not  to| 
be  seen  ;  the  ducal  pair,  Olyman  and  the  fisliy, 
all  had  vanished.     A  few  unconsidered  trifles,! 
Bucli  as  a  gun,  a  blanket,  and  a  basket  of  kamas- 
roots,  property  of  the  unbrotherly,  had  vanislicii 
with  them.      Unconsidered  trifles  will  stumble 
against   the  shins  of   Indians,  stealing  away  at| 
night. 

As  tliese  representatives  of  Klalam  civilization! 
now  make  final  exit  from  my  narrative,  I  must 
give  them  a  proper  "  teapot."  They  may  be 
taken  as  types  of  the  worse  cliaracter  of  the  coast 
Indians, — jolly  brutes,  with  the  bad  and  the  goodj 
traits  of  savages,  and  much  harmed  by  the  beset- 
tings  of  civilized  temptations.  _ 

I  cannot  omit  from  the  Duke  of  York's  teapoll 
facts  witliin  my  own  observation,  —  that  he  was 
drunken,  idle,  insolent,  and  treacherous,  —  norl 
the  hearsay  fact  that  he  has  since  been  beguiledj 
into  murders  ;  but  I  must  notice  also  his  apolo-I 
gies  of  race,  circumstance,  the  bad  influence  of 


OWIIIIIGII. 


69 


Pikes  by  land  and  profane  tars  by  sea,  and 
governmental  ne<:^loct,  a  logical  result  of  slavery. 
Mr.  II.  bad  bad  great  success  in  converting  tbo 
Ibrovvn  dust  of  a  diy  swamp  witbout  tiio  fort  into 
a  garden  of  succulent  vegetables.  As  we  were 
iiisj)i!cting  tbe  cabi)ages  and  onions  next  morn- 
ing, we  beard  a  resonance  of  boofs  over  tlie  trap 
miivuinoiit.  A  noise  of  galloping  sounded  among 
the  oaks.  Presently  a  wiia  dasb  of  Indian  cav- 
abers  burst  into  sigbt.  Tbeir  e(inij)nient  miglit 
mot  bave  borne  inspection  :  few  tbings  will,  bere 
[below,  excej>t  sucb  as  rose-leaves  and  tbc  cbeeks 

)f  a  bigb-bred  cbild.    Prejudice  migbt  bave  called 

[their  steeds  scrul)by  mustangs  ;   prejudice  migbt 

have  used  tbe  word  tuii^-rap^  as  descriptive  of  tbe 

ly-a\vay  elTect  of  a  troop  all  a-flutter  with  ribbons, 
fur-tails,  deerskin  fringes,  trailing  lariats,  and 
^vliiiliiiii'  wbin-tboim's.     It   was   a  vi^rv    irrey:nlar 

iiui  soniewbat  ragamnlbn  brigade.  Ibit  tbe  best 
hussars  of  tbe  Cbi'istendom  tbat  sustains  itself  by 
pitsans  of  bussars  are  tawdiy  and  clumsy  to  a 
Mitical  eye,  and  certainly  not  so  picturesque  as 

hose  Klickatats,  stampeding  toward  us  from 
[nuhir  tbe  gray  mossy  oaks. 

They  me,  deployed  in  tbo  open  woods,  now 
|ii'hlen  in  a  liollow,  now  rising  a  crest,  all  at  full 
rallop,  loud   over  tbe   baked    soil,  —  a  lantastic 

ivuhuide.     Tbey  swept  about  tbe  angle  of  tbo 

)U,  and  we,  following,  found  tlicui  grouped  iieai: 


4   I 


■i 


60 


THE   CANOE   AND   TIIK   SADDLE. 


i\\e  open  postern,  waiting  for  permission  to  enter. 
Some  were  dismounted  ;  some  were  dashing  up 
and  down  on  their  shaggy  nags,  —  a  band  of  pic- 
turesque marauders  on  a  peaceful  foray. 

Owhhigh  and  his  aides-de-camp  stood  a  little 
apart,  Spokan  Adonis  among  them.  At  a  sign 
from  Mr.  II.,  they  followed  us  witliin  the  fort, 
and  entered  the  factor's  cottage.  Much  cere- 
mony is  observed  by  the  Hudson's  Bay  Company 
with  the  Indians.  Discipline  must  be  preserved. 
Dignity  tells.  Indians,  having  it,  appreciate  it. 
Owhhigh  alone  was  given  a  seat  opposite  us.  His 
counsellors  stood  around  him,  while  three  or  four 
less  potent  members  of  his  suite  peered  gravely 
over  tlieir  slioulders.     The  palaver  began. 

Owhhigli's  braves  were  gorgeous  with  frippery, 
and  each  wore  a  beaded  order.  The  Murats  of 
the  world  make  splendid  fighting-cocks  of  them- 
selves with  martial  feathers  ;  the  Napoleons  wear 
gray  surtouts.  Owhhigh  was  in  stern  simplicity 
of  Indian  garb.  On  ordinary  occasions  of  council 
with  wliites,  he  would  courteously  or  ambitioui^ly 
have  adopted  their  costume ;  now,  as  he  was 
master  of  the  situation  and  grantee  of  favors,  ho 
appeared  in  his  own  proper  style.  He  wore  a 
handsome  buckskin  shirt,  heavily  cpauletted  and 
trimmed  along  the  seams  with  fringe,  and  Icggina 
and  moccasins  of  the  same.  For  want  of  Tyrian 
dye,  these  robes  were  regalized  by  a  daubing  of 


OWHIIIGH. 


61 


red  clay  A  circlet  of  otter  fur  served  him  for 
coronet.  He  was  a  man  of  bulk  and  stature,  a 
cliieftainly  personage,  a  fine  old  Roman,  cast  in 
bronze,  and  modernized  with  a  fresh  glazing  of 
vermilion  over  his  antiquated  dusldness  of  hue. 
And  certainly  no  Roman  senator,  with  adjuncts 
of  wbity-brown  toga,  curule  chair,  and  patrician 
ancestry,  seated  to  wait  his  doom  from  the  Gauls, 
ever  liad  an  air  of  more  impassive  dignity  than 
this  head  liorse-thief  of  the  Klickatats. 

In  an  interview  with  a  royal  personage,  his 
own  language  should  be  used.  But  we,  children 
jof  an  embryo  civilization,  are  trained  in  the  inu- 
tilities of  tongues  dead  as  Julius  Caesar,  never  in 
tlie  living  idioms  of  our  native  princes.  I  was 
not,  therefore,  voluble  in  Klickatat  and  Yakimah. 
Chinook  jargon,  however,  the  French  of  North- 
jwestern  diplomatic  life,  I  had  mastered.  Owhhigli 
jailed  upon  one  of  his  "  young  men "  to  inter- 
)ret  his  speeches  into  Chinook.  The  interpreter 
stepped  forward,  and  stood  expectant,  —  a  youth 
fraternally  like  my  Spokan  Adonis,  but  with  a 
sprinkle  more  of  intelligence,  and  a  sparkle  less 
)f  beauty. 

My  suit,  already  known,  was  now  formally 
stated  to  the  chief.  I  wanted  to  buy  three  quad- 
rupeds, and  hire  one  biped  guide  for  a  trip  across 
[he  Cascade  Mountains,  and  on  to  the  Dalles  of 
iQ  Columbia.    The  distance  was  about  two  hun- 


m 


^ 


71 

■■■    .    t 


I'' 

r 
t 


1 
I 

} 


I 
t 
t 


I 
I 


62 


THE  CANOn  AND  TUK   SADDLE. 


drcd  miles,  and  I  had  soven  days  to  effect  it. 
Could  it  be  done  ? 

"  Yes,"  re|)lied  Owlilii<^li ;  and  then  —  his 
bronze  face  rcniaininjr  perfectly  calm  and  Rbada- 
niantbine  —  he  began,  witli  most  expressive  pan- 
toniinu',  an  oration,  descril»ing  my  route  across  tlie 
mountains.  His  talk  went  on  in  swaying  mon- 
otone, rising  and  falling  witli  the  subject,  while 
witii  vigorous  gesture  he  pictured  the  changeful 
journey.  Tlie  interpreter  saw  that  1  compre- 
hended, and  did  not  interfere.  Occasionally, 
when  I  was  posed,  1  turned  to  him,  and  he  aid- 
ed me  witii  some  Cliinook  word,  or  a  sputtered 
phrase  of  concentrated  meaning.  Meanwhile 
the  circle  of  councillors  murmured  approval, 
and  grunted  coincidence  of  opinion. 

My  way  was  to  lead,  so  said  tlie  emphatic 
recital  of  Ovvhhigh,  first  tlirough  an  open  forest, 
s[)rinkled  with  lakes,  and  opening  into  great  prai- 
ries. I>y  and  by  the  denser  forest  of  firs  would 
meet  me,  and  giant  columnar  stems,  parting, 
leave  a  narrow  vista,  where  I  could  penetrate 
into  the  gloom.  The  dash  of  a  rapid,  shallow, 
white  river,  the  Puyallop,  where  was  a  salmou- 
Qsbery,  would  crostj  my  trail.  Then  I  mu,>t 
climl)  tbrough  mightier  woods  and  thicker 
(liickets,  where  great  bulks  of  fallen  trees  lay, 
and  barricaded  the  path ;  must  follow  up  a  tur- 
bulent river,  the  S'Kamish,  crossing  it  often,  at 


OWHIIIGH. 


fords  wlicro  my  liorscs  could  hardly  bear  up 
ajraiiist  the  current.  Ever  and  anon,  like  a 
^rliinpse  of  blue  tlirougli  a  storm,  this  rough  way 
would  be  enlivened  by  a  prairie,  witli  beds  of 
IVni  for  my  repose,  and  long  grass  for  my  tiring 
beasts,  —  grass  long  as  macaroni,  so  he  measured 
It  with  outstretched  hands.  Now  the  dilTicultics 
were  to  come.  He  depicted  tlie  craggy  side  of  a 
great  mountain,  —  horses  scrambling  up  stoutly, 
riders  grasping  tbe  mane  and  l)alancing  carefully 
lest  a  misstep  should  send  horse  and  man  over  a 
precipice.  The  summit  gained,  here  again  wero 
luxurious  tarry ing-places,  oases  of  prairie,  and 
perbaj)s,  in  some  sheltered  no(>k,  a  bank  of  last 
winter's  snow.  Here  tliere  must  be  a  long  noon- 
ing, that  the  horses,  tied  up  the  night  before  in 
tiio  forest,  and  browsing  wearily  on  bitter  twigs, 
might  recruit.  Then  came  the  steep  descent, 
and  so,  pressing  on,  I  should  arrive  for  my  third 
iiiglit's  camj)  at  a  praiiie,  low  down  on  the  eastern 
slope  of  the  mountains,  where  a  mighty  luintcr, 
tlie  late  Sowee,  once  dwelt.  Up  before  dawn  next 
morning,  —  continued  Owhhigh's  vivid  tale,  vivid 
in  gesture,  and  droning  ever  in  delivery,  —  up  at 
tlie  peep  of  day,  for  this  was  a  long  march  and  a 
liar.->h  one,  and  striking  soon  a  clear  river  flow- 
ing east,  tlie  Nachchese,  I  was  to  follow  it.  The 
river  grew,  and  went  tearing  down  a  terrible 
gorge;  through  this  my  path  led,  sometimee  in 


It 


i 

F 


I 


t 

m 
m 


,f 


64 


THE  CANOE  AND  THE  SADDLE. 


tlio  bed  of  tho  stream,  sometimes,  wlicn  precipices 
drew  too  close  and  tho  gulf  too  profound,  I  must 
climb,  and  trace  a  perilous  court^e  along  the 
brink  far  above,  where  I  might  bond  over  and  see 
tlie  water  roaring  a  thousand  feet  below.  At 
last  the  valley  would  broaden,  and  groves  of 
pine  appear.  Then  my  horses,  if  not  too  way- 
worn, could  gallop  over  the  immense  swells  of  a 
rolling  prairie-land.  Here  I  would  encounter 
some  of  the  picoplo  of  Owhhigh.  A  sharp  turn 
to  the  right  would  lead  me  across  a  mass  of  wild, 
bare  hills,  into  the  valley  of  another  stream,  the 
Atinam,  where  was  a  mission  and  men  in  long 
robes  who  prayed  at  a  shrine.  By  this  time  my 
horses  would  bo  exhausted ;  I  should  take  fresh 
ones,  if  possible,  from  tho  priests*  band,  and  rid- 
ing hard  across  a  varied  region  of  hill,  prairie, 
and  bulky  mountains  thick  with  pines,  and 
then  long  levels  where  Skloo  a  brotlier-chieftain 
ranged,  I  would  arrive,  after  two  days  from  tho 
mission,  at  a  rugged  space  of  hills,  and,  climbing 
there,  find  myself  overlooking  tho  vast  valley 
of  the  Columbia.  Barracks  and  tents  in  sight. 
Scamper  down  the  mountain.  Fire  a  gun  at 
river's  bank.  Indians  hoar,  cross  in  canoe,  ferry 
me  and  swim  my  horses.  All  safely  done  in 
six  crowded  days.     So  said  Owhliigli. 

This   description   was    given   with  wonderful 
vivacity  and  verity.     Owhhigh  as  a  pantomimist 


owiiiiiGir. 


05 


would  hav3  commanded  brilliant  success  on  any 
stage.  Would  that  there  were  more  like  liim  iu 
this  wordy  world. 

lie  promised  also  a  guide,  his  son,  now  at  tho 
camp,  and  as  to  my  horses,  I  might  clioose  from 
tli(3  cavalcade.  We  went  out  to  niukc  selection, — 
all  the  Klickatats,  except  Owhhigli,  Adonis,  and 
the  interpreter,  following  in  bow-legged  silence. 
These  three  were  vocal,  and  of  l)etter  m  >del  t'laii 
their  fellows.  No  Indian  wished  to  sell  \ih  i)eRt 
horse  ;  each  his  second-best,  at  the  fa'ii'i^  of  t'.o 
best.  Their  backs  were  in  shocking  condition. 
Pads  and  pack-saddles  had  galled  theyi;  so  thit  it 
was  painful  to  a  humane  being  to  inount ;  but  i 
felt  that  any  one  of  them,  however  aialtrcvedy 
would  better  iu  my  service.  I  should  rid;.;  hi:a 
liard,  but  care  for  him  tenderly,  li^dianr.  ijavo 
too  much  respect  for  "  pasaiooks,'^  blar*keteer8, 
Caucasians,  to  endeavor  to  cajole  us.  Tiiey  sup- 
pose that,  in  a  horse-trade,  we  know  Vt'liat  we 
want.  No  jockeying  was  attempted  ;  there  were 
I  the  nags,  1  might  prove  them,  and  buy  oi  not, 
Iwitliout  solicitation. 

The  hard  terrace  without  the  for'^  f  r,r\  ed  us  for 
Irace-course.  We  galloped  the  wiry  ;  ags  up  and 
[down,  while  the  owners  waited  iii  an  emotionless 

jroup,  calm  as  gamblers,     Should  any  one  sell  a 
horse,  he  would  not  o»Uy  pocket  the  price,  but  be 

spurred  to  new  thefts  from  tribes  hostile  or  friend* 


r  1 

;  I 

Hi 

ft 


im< 


r  if  it 


I 


I 

m 


1 
i 


6Q 


THE  CANOE  AND  THE  SADDLE. 


\y  to  fill  the  vacancy ;  yet  all  were  too  proud  to 
exhibit  eagerness,  or  pulf  their  property. 

At  last,  from  tlie  least  bad  I  chose  first  for  my 
pack  animal  a  strawberry  roan  cob,  a  "  chunk  of 
a  horse,"  a  quadrnped  with  the  legs  of  an  ele- 
phant, the  head  of  a  hippopotamus,  and  a  pecu- 
liar gait; —  he  trod  most  emj)liatically,  as  if  ho 
were  striving  to  go  through  tlie  world's  crust  at 
every  step.  Tliis  habit  suggested  the  name  he  at 
once  received.  I  called  him  Antipodes,  in  honor 
of  the  region  he  was  aiming  at,  —  a  name  of  ill 
omen,  suggesting  a  spot  where  I  often  wished  hiiu 
afterwards.  My  second  choice,  the  mount  for  my 
guide,  was  Antipodes  repeated,  with  slight  improve- 
ments of  form  and  manner.  Gubbins  I  dubbed 
him,  appropriately,  with  a  first  accolade,  —  acco- 
lade often  repeated,  during  our  acquaintance,  with 
less  mildness.  Hard  horses  were  Antipodes  and 
Gubbins,  —  hard  trotters,  hard-mouthed,  hard- 
hided  brutes.  Each  was  delivered  to  me  with  a 
hair  rope  twisted  for  bridle  about  his  lower  lip, 


sawing  it  raw. 


And  now  the  most  important  decision  remained 
to  be  made.  It  was  nothing  to  me  that  a  misty 
phantom,  my  guide,  should  be  jolted  over  the 
passes  of  Tacoma  on  a  Gubbins  or  an  Antipodes, 
but  my  own  seat,  should  it  be  upon  Rosinante  orl 
Buc(;phalus,  upon  an  agile  caracoler  or  a  lubber- 
ly plodder  ?     Step  forward,  then,  cool  and  care-i 


OWHIIIGII. 


67 


less  Klickatat,  from  tliy  lair  of  dirty  blanket,  with 
tliiit  black  pony  of  thine.     The  black  was  satis- 
factory.     Ilis   ribs,  indeed,,  were  far  too  visible, 
and  there  were  concavities  where  tliere  should 
have  been  the  convex  fulness  of  well-conditioned 
muscle,  but  he  had  a  plucky,  wiry  look,  and  his 
eye  showed  s})irit  without  spite.     Ilis  lope  was  as 
I  elastic  as  the  boiuidingof  a  wind-sped  cloud  over 
a  rough   mountain-side.      His  other  paces  were 
[neat  and  vigorous.     I  bought  him  at  more  dollars 
than  cither  of  his  comrades  of  clumsier  shape 
aud  duller  hue.     Indians  do  not  love  their  horses 
well  enough  to  name  them.     My  new  purchase  I 
[baptized  Klale.    Klale  in  Chinook  jargon  is  Black, 
and  thus  do  mankind,  putting  commonplace 
[into  foreign  tongues  or  into  big  words  of  their 
[own,  fancy  that  they  make  it  uncomiaonplace 
Liid  original. 
There  are  several  requisites  for  travel.     First, 
world  and  a  region  of  world  to  traverse ;  sec- 
ruid,  a  traveller ;    third,    means   of  conveyance, 
legs   liuman   or   other,  barks,   carts,    enchanted 
nirpets,  and  the  like ;  fourth,  guidance  by  man 
)ersonal,   or   man    impersonal   acting  by  roads, 
;uide-boards,  maps,  and  itineraries  ;   fifth,  mul- 
tifarious  wherewithals.     The  first  two  requisites 
Beom  to  be  indispensable  in  the  human  notion  of 
travel,  and  existed  in  my  case.     The  third  I  had 
novided ;  my  stud  was  complete.     A  guide  was 


l\ 

r* 

1 

C>i 

K 

'  « 

■* 

i 

Kft 

r  *• 

^ 

%i 

il 

Vi 

h-m 

« 

"^ 

1 

*' 

i 

1 

t'   !  9 

t    )-« 

t    '  % 

f  ^ 

r  h 

.♦  h 

*  ii 

r  !' 

1 

k. 

» 

68 


THE  CANOE  AND  THE  SADDLE. 


promised ;  after  an  interview  with  Owhhigh  I 
could  give  credence  to  his  unseen  son,  and  be- 
lieve that  the  fourth  requisite  of  my  journey  was 
also  ready.  I  must  now  arrange  my  miscellane- 
ous outfit.  For  this  pui'pose  the  resources  of 
Fort  Nisqually  were  infinite.  Mr.  H.  approached 
the  dusty  warehouses  ;  ho  wielded  the  wand  of 
an  enchanter,  and  forth  from  dim  corners  cumo 
a  pack-saddle  for  Antipodes,  a  pad-saddle  for 
Gubbins,  and  great  hide  packs  for  my  ti'aps. 
Forth  from  the  shelves  of  the  shop  came  para- 
phernalia,—  tin  pot,  tin  pan,  tin  cups,  and,  the 
needful  luxuries  of  tea  and  sugar.  My  pork  and 
hard-tack  had  been  already  provided  at  Stcila- 
coom,  and  Mj*.  H.  added  to  them  what  I  deemed 
half  a  dozen  gnarled  lignum-vitaj  roots.  Ex- 
perimental whittling  proved  these  to  bo  cured 
ox-tongues,  a  precious  accession.  My  list  was 
complete. 

I  was  lodged  in  a  small  cabin  adjoining  the 
factor's  cottage.  All  my  sundries  had  been  j)ilod 
here  for  packing,  and  I  was  standing,  somewhat 
mazed,  in  the  centre  of  a  group  of  tin  pots, 
guarlod  tongues,  powder-horns,  papers  of  tea, 
i)lankets,  bread-bags,  bridles,  spurs,  and  toggery, 
when  in  walked  Owhhigh,  followed  by  several 
of  his  suite. 

Owhhigh  seated  himself  on  the  floor^  with  an 
air  of  condescension,  and  for  some  time  regarded 


OWHUTGH. 


69 


my  prt'parations  in  grave  silonce.  Mr.  H.  hid 
told  me  that  his  parade  of  an  interpreter  during 
the  council  was  only  to  make  an  impression. 
Some  men  regard  an  assumption  of  ignorance  as 
lofty.  Now,  however,  Owhhigh,  'Iropping  in  un- 
coremoniously,  laid  aside  his  sham  dignity  with  a 
purpose.  We  had  before  agreed  upon  the  terms 
of  payment  for  my  guide.  The  ancient  horse- 
thief  sat  like  a  Pacha,  smoking  an  inglorious 
dhudcen,  and  at  last,  glancing  at  certain  articles 
of  raiment  of  mine,  thus  familiarly,  in  Chinook, 
broke  silence. 

Owhhigh.  "  Halo  she  coUocks  nika  tciias ;  no 
breeches  hath  my  son  "  (the  guide). 

/.  (in  an  Indianesque  tone  of  some  surprise, 
but  great  indifference).     "  Ah  hagh  !  " 

Owhhigh,     "  Pe  halo  shirt ;  and  no  shirt." 

/.  (assenting,  with  equal  indifference).  "  Ah 
I  hagh !  " 

Owhhigh  smokes,  and  is  silent,  and  Spokan 
lAdonis  fugues  in,  "  Pe  wake  yaka  shoeb ;  and 
|no  shoes  hath  he." 

Another  aide-de-camp  takes  up  the  strain. 
|*'Yahwah  mitlite  shoes,  closche  copa  Owhhigh 
teuiis;  there  are  shoes  (pointing  to  a  pair  of 
nine)  good  for  the  son  of  Owhhigh." 

/.  "Stick  shoes  ocook,  —  wake  closche  copa 
'iw  ash ;  hard  shoes  (not  moccasins)  those,  —  not 
rood  for  Indian." 


».  t* 


70 


THE  CANOE  AND  THE  SADDLE. 


Owhhigh.     "  Hyas   tyeo   mika,  —  Inn   mitlito 
ikta,  —  halo  ikta  mitlite  copa  iiika  tciias,  —  mika 
tikky   liiu   pollatch  ;    great   cliief    thou, —  withj 
thee    plenty   traps   abide,  —  no    traps    hath    my 
son,  —  thou  wilt  give  liiin  abundance.*' 

1.  "  Pe  hyas  tyee  Ovvlihigh,  —  conoway  iktai 
initlitc-pe  hin  yaka  potlatch  copa  liticum  ;  an(la| 
great  chief  Is  Owhhigh,  —  all  kinds  of  propcrtyl 
are  his,  and  many  presents  does  he  make  to  hisj 
people." 

Profound  silence  followed  these  mutual  hints. 
Owhhigh  smoked   in  thoughtful  whilfs,  and  the 
pipe  went  round.     The  choir  boK   their  failure 
stoically.     They  had  done  tlieir  best  that  thi'irl 
comrade  might  be  arrayed  at  my  expense,  and 
if  1  did  not  choose  to  throw  in  a  livery,  I  niiistl 
bear  the  shame  and  the  unsavoriness  if  he  wore 
frowzy.     At  last,  to  please  Owhhigh,  and  requite 
him  for  the  entertainment  of  his  oratory,  I  proiM 
ised  that,  if  his  son  were  faithful,  I  would  give 
him  a  generous  premium,  possibly  the  very  shin] 
and  other  articles  they  had  admired.     Wbore^j 
upon,  after  more  un wordy  whiffs  and  ineffectiUL 
hints  tliat  they  too  were  needy,  Owhhigh  an] 
his  braves  lounged  off,  the  gloomy  bow-lcggcj 
one5,  who  had  not  spoken,  bringing  up  the  roar 
1  soon  had  everything  in  order,  tongues,  tea,  aii'^ 
tin  properly  stowed,  and  was  ready  to  be  off. 

Experienced  campaigners  attempt  no  more  thai 


own  II I  GIL 


71 


a  start  and  a  league  or  two  the  first  day  of  a  long 
march.  To  burst  the  ties  that  bind  us  to  civiliza- 
tion is  an  epocli  of  itself.  The  first  camp  of  an 
expedition  must  not  be  beyond  reclamation  of 
forgotten  things.  Starts,  too,  will  often  be  falsG 
ptarts.  Raw  men  and  raw  horses  and  mules  will 
condense  into  a  muddle,  or  explode  into  a  cen- 
trifugal stampede,  a  "  blazing  star,"  as  packeia 
name  it.  Then  the  pack-horse  with  the  flour 
bolts  and  makes  paste  of  his  burden,  up  to  his 
spine  in  a  neighboring  pool.  The  powder  mule 
lies  down  in  the  ashes  of  a  cooking  fire.  Tho 
pork  mule,  in  greasy  gallop,  trails  fatness  over 
the  plain.  In  a  thorny  thicket,  a  few  white 
shreds  reveal  where  the  tent  mule  tore  through. 
Another  beast  flies  madly,  while  after  him  clink 
all  the  cannikins,  battering  themselves  shapeless 
upon  his  flanks.  It  is  chaos,  and  demands  hours 
perhaps  of  patience  to  make  order  again. 

Such  experience  in  a  minor  degree  might  be- 
full  even  my  little  party  of  three  horses  and  two 
men.  I  therefore,  for  better  speed,  resolved  to 
disentangle  myself  this  evening,  and  have  a  clear 
field  to-morrow.  Recalcitrant  Anti])odes,  there- 
fore, suffered  compulsio'-^  and  was  packed  with 
his  com[>lex  burdens.  Leaving  him  and  (lul)bins 
with  Owhhigh  to  follow  and  be  disciplined,  Mr. 
11.  and  I  galloped  on  under  the  oaks,  over  tho 
trap-rock,  toward  tho   KUckatat  camp.     Klule, 


Hi 

;  I 


} 

I 


I 


J 


^p 


72 


THE  CANOE  AND  THE  SADDLE. 


»  _ 

with  ungdling  saddle,  and  t  merciful  rider  of 
nine  stone  weight,  loped  on  gayly. 

The  Klickatats  were  encamped  on  a  prairio 
near  the  house  of  a  settler,  five  miles  from  the 
Fort.  Just  without  the  house  was  a  group  of 
them  gambling.  Presently  Owhhigh  followed 
Mr.  H.  and  me  into  the  farmer's  kitchen,  bring- 
ing forward  for  introduction  his  son,  my  guide. 
He  was  one  of  the  gambling  group.  I  inspected 
him  narrowly.  My  speed,  my  success,  my  safety, 
depended  upon  his  good  faith.  Owhhigli  bore 
no  very  high  character,  —  why  should  son  be 
honester  than  father  ?  To  an  Indian  the  tempta- 
tion to  play  foul  by  a  possessor  of  horses,  guns, 
blankets,  and  traps  was  enormous. 

My  future  comrade  was  a  tallish  stripling  of 
twenty,  dusky-hued  and  low-browed.  A  mat  of 
long,  careless,  sheenless  black  hair  fell  almost  to 
his  shoulders.  Dull  black  were  his  eyes,  not 
veined  with  agate-like  play  of  color,  as  are  the 
eyes  of  the  sympathetic  and  impressionable.  His 
chief  physiognomical  characteristic  was  a  down- 
ward look,  like  the  brown  study  of  a  detected 
pickpocket,  inquiring  with  himself  whether  vil- 
lany  pays ;  his  chief  personal  and  seemingly  per- 
manent characteristic  was  squalor.  Squalid  was 
his  hickory  shirt,  squalid  his  buckskin  leggins, 
long  widowed  of  their  fringe.  Yet  it  was  not  a 
mean,  but  a  proud  uncIeanlincsS)  like  that  of  a 


OWIIIIIGH. 


73 


fukir,  or  a  voluntarily  unwashed  hermit.  IIo 
flaunted  his  dirtiness  in  the  face  of  civilization, 
claiming  respect  for  it,  as  merely  a  ditferent 
theory  of  the  toilette.  I  cannot  say  that  this 
new  actor  in  my  drama  looked  trustworthy,  but 
there  was  a  certain  rascally  churm  in  his  rather 
insolent  dignity,  and  an  exciting  mystery  in  his 
|Undecipheral)le  })hiz.  I  saw  that  there  was  no 
danger  of  our  becoming  friends.  There  existed 
Ian  antagonism  in  our  natures  which  might  lead 
jto  defiance  and  hostility,  or  possibly  terminate  in 
[mutual  respect. 

Loolowcan  was  his  name.     I  took  him  for  bet- 
|ter  or  for  worse,  without  questions. 

Owhhigh   fully  vouched   for  him,  —  but  who 
rould  vouch  for  the  voucher  ?    Who  could  satisfy 
le  that  the  horse-thieving  morality  of  papa  might 
fiot  result  in  scalp-thieving  principles  in  the  youth  ? 
it  least,  he  knew  the  way  unerringly.     My  path 
ras  theirs,  of  constant  transit  from  inland  to  sea- 
kide.    As  to  his  conduct,  Owhhigh  gave  him  an 
rnpressive  harangue,  stretching  forth  his  arm  in 
|ts  fringed  sleeve,  and  gesturing  solemnly.     This 
)atcrnal  admonition  was,  for  my  comprehension, 
ixpressed  in  Chinook  jargon,  doubly  ludicrous 
^ith  Owhhigh's  sham  stateliness  of  rhetoric.    His 
inal  injunctions  to  young  hopeful  may  be  con- 
fensed  as  follows  :  — 
"  Great  chief  go  to  Dalles.      Want  to  go  fast. 


•MP 


■3 


4 
> 
1 


c 


<Bi 


i 


I 


ill! 


71 


THE  CANOE  AND  THE  SADDLE. 


Six  days.  Good  pay.  S'poso  want  fresh  horses 
other  side  mountains,  —  you  get  'em.  Get  ev- 
crytiiing.  Look  sharp.  No  fear  bad  Indian  at 
Dalies;  great  chief  not  let  'em  beat  you.  Bei 
good  boy  !     Good  bye  !  " 

Owhliigh  presented  me,  as  a  parting  gift,  hisl 
"^liip,  wliich  I  liad  admired,  a  neat  baton  with  a 
long  hide  lasli  and  loop  of  otter  fur  for  the  wrist. 
I  could  by  its  aid  modify,  without  altering,  the  sys-j 
tcni  of  education  already  pursued  with  my  horses. 
Homeric  studies  had  taught  me  that  the  gifts  ufl 
heroes  should  be  reciprocal.     I  therefore,  for  lack 
of   more  significant  token,  prayed  Owhliigli  to 
accept  a  piece  of  silver.     We  shook  hands  elul>| 
orately  and  parted.     He  was  hung  or  shot  lastl 
summer  in  the  late  Indian  wars  of  that  region. 
I  regret  his  martyrdom,  and  hope  that  in  hi$| 
present  sphere  his  skill  as  a  horse-thief  is  betterj 
directed. 

I  had  also  adieux  to  offer  to  Mr.  H.,  and  thank| 
for  his  kind  energy  in  forwarding  me.    From  hii 
as  from  all  the  gentlemen  of  the  Hudson's  Boi 
Company  in  the  Northwest,  I  had  received  the| 
most  genuine  hospitality,  hearty  entertaiumeui 
legendary  and  culinary.  - 

And  now  for  my  long  ride  across  the  country] 
Here,  Loolowcan,  is  Gubbins,  thy  steed,  —  drivj 
thou  Antipodes,  clumsiest  of  cobs.    I  have  moui 
ed  Klale,  —  let  us  gallop  eastward. 


OWHIIIOH. 


75 


horses 

1 

ict  ev- 

1 

liau  at 

1 

u.     Be 

1 

Eastward  I  galloped  with  what  eager  joy !  I 
flung  myself  again  alone  upon  the  torrent  of  ad- 
venture, with  a  lurking  liope  that  I  might  prove 
new  sensations  of  danger,  new  tests  of  manhood 
in  its  confident  youth.  1  was  going  homeward 
across  the  breadth  of  the  land,  and  with  the  ex- 
citement of  tliis  large  thought  there  came  a 
blight  reactionary  sinking  of  heart,  and  a  dread 
lest  I  had  exhausted  onward  life,  and  now,  turn- 
ing back  from  its  foremost  verge,  should  find  my- 
self dwindling  into  dull  conservatism,  and  want 
of  prophetic  faith.  1  feared  that  I  was  retreating 
from  the  future  into  the  past.  Yet  if  one  but 
knew  it,  his  retreats  are  often  his  wisest  and  brav- 
est advances. 

I  had,  however,  little  time  for  meditation,  mor- 
bid or  healthy.  Something  always  happens,  in 
the  go  and  the  gallop  of  travel,  demanding  quick, 
instinctive  action.  Antipodes  was  in  this  case 
the  agent  to  make  me  know  my  place.  Antipodes, 
pointing  his  nose  eastward  toward  his  native  val- 
leys, had  pounded  along  the  trail  for  a  couple  of 
miles  over  the  hillocks  of  a  stony  prairie,  and  on 
his  back  rattled  my  packs,  for  solace  or  annoy- 
ance, according  to  his  own  views.  At  a  fork  of 
[the  trail,  Loolowcan  urged  Gubbins  to  the  front, 
to  indicate  the  route.  Right-about  went  Antip- 
odes. Back  toward  Squally  bolted  that  stiff- 
legged  steed,  —  stiff-legged  no  more,  but  far  too 


•t-i 


T6 


THE  CANOE  AND  THE  SADDLE. 


limber,  —  and  louder  on  his  back  rattled  my  pot? 
and  pans,  a  merry  sound,  could  I  have  listened 
with  no  tliought  of  the  pottage  and  pancakes  tliat 
depended  upon  the  safety  of  my  tin-ware.  Still 
I  could  be  amused  at  his  grotesque  gallop,  for  lie 
had  not  discomfited  me,  and  I  could  cluickle  at 
the  thought  of  another  sound,  when  he  was  over- 
taken, and  when  upon  a  strawberry-roan  surfice 
fell  the  whip,  the  Owhhigh  gift,  now  swinging  at 
my  wrist  by  its  loop  of  otter-skin,  for  greater  nio 
mentum  of  stroke.  Clattering  over  the  paved 
prairie  we  hied,  the  defaulter  a  little  in  advance 
and  artfully  dodging,  —  Loolowcan  and  I  close 
upon  him.  Still  more  artfully  at  last  he  made 
show  of  finding  the  trail,  and  went  pounding 
along,  as  if  no  traitorous  stampede  had  happened. 
A  total  failure  was  this  crafty  sham,  this  too  late 
repentance  and  acknowledgment  of  defeat.  Ven- 
geance will  not  thus  be  baffled.  Men  discover 
with  bitterness  that  nature  continues  to  use  the 
scourge  long  after  they  have  reformed,  until  re- 
lapse becomes  impossible  by  the  habit  of  virtue, 
So  Antipodes  experienced.  Pendulum  whips 
do  not  swing  for  uothing,  and  he  never  again 
attempted  absolute  revolt,  but  grumbliugly  afr| 
knowlcdged  his  duty  to  his  master. 

This  was  an  evening  of  August,  in  a  climatel 
where  summer  is  never  scorching  nor  blastiugj 
"We  breathe  air  as  a  matter  of  course,  uncbserv- 


owmnan. 


77 


ant  usually  of  how  fair  a  draught  it  is.  But 
to-night  the  chalice  of  nature  was  brimming  with 
I  a  golden  haze,  which  touched  the  lips  with  luxu- 
rious  winy  flavor. 

So  inhaling  delicate  gray-gold  puffs  of  indolent 
igummer-evening  air,  and  much  tranquillized  by 
such  beverage,  mild  yet  rich,  1  rode  on,  now 
under  the  low  oaks,  now  over  a  ripe  [)rairie,  and 
now  beside  a  lake  fresh,  pure,  and  feminine. 
And  whenever  a  vista  opened  eastward,  Tacoma 
appeared  above  the  low-lying  mists  of  the  dis- 
tance. *'  Polikely,  spose  mika  tikky,  nesika  mit- 
|litc  copa  Comcomli  house ;  to-night,  if  you  please, 
re  stop  at  Comcomli's  house,"  said  Loolowcau 
the  taciturn. 

Niglit  was  at  hand,  and  where  was  the  house  ? 
[t  is  not  wise  to  put  off  choice  of  camping-ground 
till  dark ;  foresight  is  as  needful  to  a  campaigner 
IS  to  any  other  mortal.  But  presently,  in  a 
)retty  little  prairie,  we  reached  the  spot  whcro 

certain  Montgomery,  wedded  to  a  squaw,  had 
Squatted,  and  he  should  be  our  host.  His  name, 
loo  articulate  for  Indian  lips,  they  had  softened 
[o  Comcomli.  A  similar  corruption  befell  the 
lamo  of  the  Scotticized  chief  of  the  Chinooks, 
^honi  xVstor's  people  found  at  Astoria,  and  whom 
[r.  Irving  has  gi':'.i  to  history. 

Mr.   Comcomli   was   absent,   but    his    comely 

mild  eyed,  melancholy  "  squaw  received  us  hos- 


a 


i 


r'li 
I 


4 

ir 

I). 

i 

6 


I 


TS 


THE  CANOE   AND   THE   SADDLE. 


pital)ly.  Ilcr  Squallyamish  proportions  were  odd- 
ly involved  in  limp  robes  of  calico,  such  as  her 
sisters  from  Pike  County  wear.  She  gave  us  a 
supper  of  fried  pork,  bread,  and  tea.  Wo  en- 
camped ujmn  her  floor,  and  were  somewhat  trod- 
den under  foot  by  little  half-breed  Comcomli?, 
patrolling  al»out  during  the  night-watches. 

Loolowcan  hero  began  to  sliow  tho  while 
feather.  His  heart  sank  when  he  contemplated 
tho  long  leagues  of  the  trail.  Ho  wanted  to 
return.  He  was  solitary,  —  homesick  for  the  con- 
genial society  of  other  youths  with  matted  hair. 
dusky  skins,  paint-daubed  cheeks,  low  brows,  and 
distinguished  frowziness  of  apparel.  He  wanted 
to  squat  by  camp-fires,  and  mutter  guttural  gib 
berish  to  such  as  these.  Tiie  old,  undying  feud 
of  blackguard  against  gentleman  seemed  in  dan- 
ger of  pronouncing  itself.  Besides,  he  feared 
hostile  siwashes  at  the  Dalles  of  the  Columbia. 
In  his  superstitious  soul  of  a  savage  he  dreaded, 
or  pretended  to  dread,  some  terrible  magical  in- 
fluence in  the  gloomy  forests  of  the  mountains. 
Of  evil  omen  to  me,  and  worse  than  any  demon 
spell  in  the  craggy  dells  of  the  Cascades,  was  this 
vacillation  of  my  guide.  However,  I  argued 
somewhat,  and  somewhat  wheedled  and  bullied 
the  doubter.  Loolowcan  was  harder  to  keep  iu 
line  than  Antipodes.  One  may  tame  Bucepha- 
lus, but  several  new  elements  of  character  are  to 


■ 


OWIIIIIGII. 


79 


DC  considcrccl  when  tlic  attempt  is  made  to  man 
age  rnpan  savajxcs. 

At  last  my  ^uidc  seemed  to  n-aver  over  to  tlio 
tide  of  good  faith,  with  a  dishonest  air  and  a  pre- 
loijcc  of  wishing  to  oblige.  Sluikcn  confidenco 
liiudly  returns,  and  from  liour  to  hour,  as  tho 
liltlo  Comcomlis  pranced  over  my  person,  and 
Inunplod  my  upturned  nose  a  tem[)orary  aqui- 
line, I  awoke,  and  studied  tlie  dark  spot  where 
.ny  dusky  comrade  lay.  p]ach  time  1  satisfied 
nivsclf  that  ho  had  not  flitted.  Nor  did  ho. 
When  morning  came,  his  heart  grew  bigger. 
Dilliculties  portentous  in  tho  ghostly  obscure  of 
niglit  vanished  with  cock-crowing.  lie  contem- 
plated his  fair  proportions,  and  felt  that  new 
dutlics  would  become  them.  He  rose,  stalked 
iljuut,  and  longed  for  the  dignified  drapery  of  a 
new  blanket.  How  the  other  low-browed  and 
Fcpialid,  from  whom  he  had  been  selected  for  his 
knowledge  as  a  linguist  and  his  talents  as  a 
LMiide,  —  how  they  would  scoff,  and  call  him 
Kullapooya,  meanest  of  Indians,  if  he  sneaked 
l>aek  to  camp  bootless  !  He  turned  to  me,  and 
taw  nie  a  civilized  man,  in  garb  and  guise  to  be 
envied.  So  for  a  time  treachery  was  argued  out 
)f  the  heart  of  Loolowcau  the  frowzy. 


c  n 


I 


t 

m 


V. 


FORESTS    OF    THE    CASCADES. 


To  have  started  with  dawn  is  a  proud  and 
exhilarating  recollection  all  the  day  long.  Tho 
most  godlike  impersonality  men  know  is  tiio 
sun.  To  him  tho  body  should  pay  its  matinal 
devotions,  its  ardent,  worshipful  greetings,  when 
he  comes,  the  joy  of  tho  world  ;  then  is  the  soul 
elated  to  loftier  energies,  ai  d  nerved  to  sustain 
its  own  visions  of  ^,iOries  transcending  the  spheres 
where  the  oun  reigns  suhlinxe.  Tame  and  inar- 
ticulate is  the  harmony  oC  a  day  that  has  not 
known  the  delicious  preludes  of  dawn.  For  tho 
sun,  the  godlike,  docs  not  come  hastily  blunder- 
ing in  upon  the  scene.  Nor  does  he  bounce 
forth  upon  tlie  areiui  of  his  action,  like  a  circus 
clown.  Much  beautiful  labor  of  love  is  done  by 
earth  and  sky,  prej)aring  a  pageant  where  their 
Lord  shall  enter.  Slowly,  like  the  growth  of  any 
feeling  grand,  deep,  masterful,  and  abiding,  na- 
ture's power  of  comprehending  the  coming  bless- 
ing develops.  First,  up  in  the  colorless  ranges 
of  night  there  is  a  feeling  of  quiver  tind  life, 


FORESTS   OF   THE   CASCADES. 


81 


% 


broader  tlian  tlie  narrow  twinkle  of  stars,  —  a 
tender  liicency,  not  light,  but  rather  a  sense  of 
the  departing  of  darkness.  Then  a  gray  glim- 
mer, like  the  sheen  of  filed  silver,  trembles  up- 
ward from  the  black  horizon.  Gray  deepens  to 
violet.  Clouds  flubh  and  blaze.  Tiie  sky  grows 
azure.  The  pageant  tliickens.  Beams  dart  up. 
The  world  shines  golden.  The  sun  comes  forth 
to  cljeer,  to  bless,  to  vivify. 

For  other  reasons  more  obviously  practical, 
needs  must  that  campaigners  stir  with  dawn,  and 
start  with  sunrise.  No  daylight  is  long  enough 
for  its  j)ossible  work,  as  no  life  is  long  enough  for 
its  possible  development  in  wisdom  and  love.  In 
the  beautiful,  fresh  hours  of  early  day  vigorous 
influences  are  about.  The  sun  is  doing  his  up- 
hill work  easily,  climbing  without  a  thought  of 
toil  to  the  breathing-spot  of  high  noon.  Every 
flower  of  the  world  is  boldly  open  ;  there  is  no 
languid  droop  in  any  stem.  Blades  of  grass  havo 
tossed  lightly  off  each  its  burden  of  a  dew-drop, 
and  now  stand  upright  and  alert.  Man  rises 
from  recumbency  taller  by  fractions  of  an  inch 
than  when  he  sank  to  repose,  with  a  brain  leagues 
higher  up  in  the  regions  of  ability,  —  leagues 
uljove  doubt  and  depression  ;  and  a  man  on  a 
march,  with  long  wildness  of  mountain  and  j>hiiii 
to  overpass,  is  urged  by  necessity  to  convert 
power  into  achievement. 

4*  V 


hi:    19 


I 


1 
I 

3 


if:    ""1 


1 
I 

I 


82 


THE  CANOi:  AND  THE  SADDLE. 


Up,  then,  at  earliest  of  light,  I  sprang  from  tlie 
ground.  I  roused  Loolowcan,  and  found  him  in 
healthier  and  braver  mood,  and  ready  to  lead  on. 
Wliile,  after  one  sympathetie  gaze  at  Aurora,  I 
made  up  my  i)aeks,  my  Kliekatat  unt<;tliertM] 
the  horses  from  spots  where  all  night  they  had 
champed  tlie  succulent  grasses.  This  control  of 
tetliering  was  necessary  on  separating  my  steeds 
from  their  late  comrades.  Indian  nags,  like  lu- 
dian  youths,  are  gregarious,  and  had  my  ponies 
escaped,  I  should  prohal)ly  have  seen  them  never- 
more. Even  my  graceful  Adonis,  the  Spokan, 
would  not  have  hesitated  to  seclude  a  stray  An- 
tipodes, galloping  hack  to  the  herd,  and  inno- 
cently to  oiler  me  another  and  a  sorrier,  to  be 
bought  with  fresh  moneys. 

The  trail  took  us  speedily  into  a  forest-temple. 
Long  years  of  lal)or  by  artists  the  most  uncon- 
scious of  their  skill  had  been  given  to  modelling 
these  colunmar  firs.  Unlike  the  ]»il)ars  of  hu- 
man architecture,  chipi)ed  and  chiselled  in  bus- 
tling, dusty  quarries,  and  hoisted  to  their  site  liy 
sweat  of  brow  and  creak  of  j)ulley,  these  rose  to 
fairest  proportion  by  tlu  life  that  was  in  Ihcm, 
and  blossomed  into  foliated  capitals  three  hun- 
dred feet  overhead. 

Riding  steadily  on,  I  found  no  thinning  of  this 
mighty  array,  no  change  in  the  monotony  of  this 
monstrous  vegetation.     These  giauts  witli  tlieir 


FOBKSTS   OF   Till:    CASCADKS. 


83 


rougli  plate-armor  were  masters  here  ;  ono  of 
liituiaii  btature  was  unmeaning  and  incapalilc. 
Willi  an  axo,  a  man  of  muscle  might  succeed  in 
uniting  oil'  a  Hake  or  a  chip,  but  lii.s  blight  iUires 
(^Denied  naught  to  hatlle,  with  any  chance  of 
viclory,  witli  the  tiujc-iiardened  sinews  of  thci^o 
(jdliaiiis.  It  ^vcw  homt!wiiat  dreaiy  to  fnlh^v 
down  the  vi>tas  of  tins  ungenile  woodland,  |>ass- 
iiig  lorever  between  rows  of  rougli-iiewn  piliai's, 
aiid  never  peneliatiiig  to  any  shrine  whvji'e  sun- 
shine entered  and  dwelt,  an<i  gai  lands  <^i\-\v  for 
llio  gods  of  tlie  forest.  \\'iierevt;r  1  rijde  into 
tiie  sombre  vista,  and  turnetl  by  chance  to  trace 
the  trail  behind  me,  tiie  dark-j»nrj»le  trunks  di'ew 
together,  like  a  circuit  of  palisades,  and  closed 
ulier,  crowding  me  forward  down  the  narrow  in- 
evitable way,  as  ugly  sins,  co-operating  only  to 
evolve  an  uglier  remorse,  forl)id  the  soul  to  turn 
h.kk  to  purity,  and  ciowd  it,  shrinking,  on  into 
blacker  falscin^ss   to  itself. 


Dcf. 


>re  my  couiage  was  (pie 


lied  I 


ly  a  sui)orsti' 


tiuus  dread  that  from  this  austere  wood  was  liO 
•Jscape,  1  came  upon  a  river,  cleaving  the  dark- 
ft'j.^s  v.'ith  a  biuad  belt  of  sunshine.  A  river  sig- 
lilius  nmch  on  the  earth.  It  signifies  someliiing 
tu  iui\  wiih  pi'opei' (liiukaM's;  it  si^nilies  navi-iu- 
(itiii,  ill  buch-canoe,  seventy-lour,  Uoaling  pal  ice, 
iia;:-(iut,  or  luml)er  ark  ;  it  signilies  molioii,  less 
liansiloiy  Llia.i   the  tremble  of  leaves,  aud  shad- 


(#•' 


o^ 


■■■I 
1! 

1 


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1 

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I 


84 


THE  CANOE  AND  THE  SADDLE. 


ows.  This  particular  river,  tlio  Puyallop,  had 
another  distinct  significance  to  mo,  —  it  was  cer- 
tain to  supply  provisions,  fisli,  salmon.  As  I  ex- 
pected, some  fishing  Indians  wore  hero  to  sell  mo 
their  silver  l)eanty,  a  noble  foUov,  who  this  Loom- 
ing liad  tasted  the  pickle  of  Whulgo,  and  had  tlio 
cosmopolitan  look  of  a  fish  but  now  from  ocean 
palace  and  grot,  where  he  was  a  welcome  guest 
and  a  regretted  absentee.  It  was  truly  to  bo  de- 
plored that  he  could  never  reappear  in  thoso 
Neptunian  realms  with  tales  of  wild  adventure; 
yet  if  to  this  most  l)rilliant  of  fish  his  liour  of 
destiny  had  come,  how  mucli  better  than  feeding 
foul  Indians  it  was  to  belong  to  me,  who  would 
treat  his  proportions  with  respect,  feel  the  exqui- 
siteness  of  his  coloring,  grill  him  delicately,  and 
cat  him  daintily ! 

Potatoes,  also,  I  bought  of  tho  Indians,  and 
bagged  them  till  my  bags  were  knobby  withal, — 
potatoes  with  skins  of  smooth  and  refined  tex- 
ture, like  the  cheeks  of  a  brunette,  and  like  them 
showing  fair  rosiness  through  the  transparent 
brown.  For  these  peaceful  products  I  paid  in 
munitions  of  war.  Four  charges  of  powder  and 
shot  were  deemed  by  the  Nestor  of  tho  siwash 
family  a  liberal,  even  a  lavishly  bounteous  price, 
for  twoscore  of  tubers  and  a  fifteen-pound  sal- 
mon ;  and  in  two  corners  of  the  flap  of  his 
sole  inner  and  outer  garment  that  tran(^uil  sage 


FORKSTS    OF    TIIK    CASCADES. 


85 


tied  up  his  hazardous  property.  Such  barter 
di<rni(ies  marketiug.  Usually  what  a  nuui  pays 
for  his  dinner  dues  nut  interest  the  race ;  hut  hero 
1  was  giving  destruction  fur  provender,  death  fur 
lil'o.  IV'riiaps  Nestor  shut  the  next  traveller  with 
my  ammunitiun,  and  the  juices  uf  tliat  sahnuu 
wore  really  my  hrother  Yankee's  blood.  Avaunt, 
horrid  thought !  and  may  it  be  that  the  powder 
uii<i  the  shot  went  for  killing  porcupines,  or  tliat 
tlioir  treasurer  stumlded  in  the  stream,  and 
dn>\\  ned   his  deadly  stores ! 

Well  satisHed  with  my  now  possessions,  I  said 
adieu  to  the  monotonous  muml)lers  of  Puyallop, 
—  a  singularly  fishy  old  gentleman,  liis  wife  an 
oleaginoiis  hag,  an  emotionless  youth  of  the  L)i>o- 
lowciin  type,  and  a  liat-faeed  young  damsel  with 
a  circle  of  vermilion  on  each  Ijroad  cheek  and  a 
red  blanket  for  all  raiment.  1  waded  the  milky 
htreain,  scullled  across  its  pebbly  bed,  and  plunged 
ugaiu  among  the  phalanxes  of  iirs.  These  opciied 
a  narrow  trail,  wide  enough  to  wind  rapidly 
[ulong,  and  my  little  cortege  dashed  on  deeper 
into  tlie  wildern  ss.  1  had  not  yet  entirely  Cf»- 
ca pod  from  civili  :ation,  so  much  as  Yi?nkco  pio- 
neers carry  with  them,  naaely,  blue  blankets  and 
the  smell  of  fried  pork.  In  a  prairie  about  noon 
to-day  I  saw  a  smoke,  near  that  smoke  a  tent, 

md  at  that  smoke  two  men  in  cx-suldier  garb. 

i'ryiiig  pork  were  these  two  braves,  as  at  most 


r  1 

*    1 

v*      J 


1, 

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1 

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i^ 

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t 

m    . 

'  7 

u 

«.#  . 

THE  CANOE  AND  THE  SADDLE. 


habitations,  up  and  down  and  athwart  tliis  conti- 
nent, cookiiijz:  l)raves  or  their  wives  are  doing 
three  times  a  day,  incensing  dawn,  noon,  and  snn 
set.  These  two  had  taken  this  pretty  prairie  as 
tlieir  '' claim,"  jjopiiig  to  become  the  vangnard 
of  coh)nizati()ii.  'IMu^y  became  its  Ibrhirn  hope. 
The  point  of  civilization's  entering  wedge  into 
barbarism  is  easily  knocked  olf.  These  squatters 
were  knocked  oil',  as  some  of  tlie  earliest  victims 
of  the  Indian  war  three  summers  after  my  visit. 
It  is  odd  how  much  more  interest  1  take  in  tiiet-o 
two  settlers  since  1  heard  that  they  were  scalped. 
More  fair  prairies  strung  themselves  along  tl»e 
trail,  possibly  loss  fair  in  seeming  to  lue  then, 
could  1  have  known  tiiat  murder  would  soon  dis- 
figure them  ;  tliat  savages,  and  perhaps  among 
them  the  low-browed  Loolowcan,  would  lurk  l)e- 
hind  the  purple  trunks  of  these  colossal  firs, 
watcliing  not  in  vain  for  tlie  safe  moment  to  slay. 
For  so  it  was,  and  the  war  in  that  territory 
began  tlnee  years  after,  by  massacres  in  thofcC 
outlying  spots. 

i  was  njw  to  bo  greeted  by  a  nearer  vision  of 
an  old  love.  A  great  bliss,  or  a  sublime  olijcct, 
or  a  giant  aspiration  of  our  souls,  lifts  first  upon 
cur  horizon,  and  swelling  fills  our  ^^^^phere,  and 
sloops  I'orvvaid  with  winsome  condescension.  And 
taking  our  clcw,  we  approach  through  the  laliy- 
linlhb.     Glimpses  are  never  wanting  to  subtain 


FORESTS   OF  THE   CASCADES. 


87 


US,  lest  wo  faint  and  fail  along  tlio  lacerating 
ways.  Such  a  glimpse  I  was  now  to  have  of  Ta- 
coma.  1  i»ad  long  been  obstructedly  nearing  it, 
fn>t  in  the  leaky  Bucentaur,  propelled  over 
strong-flowing  Whnlge  by  Klalams,  drunlicii, 
crapulous,  unsteady,  timid, — such  agents  pro- 
gress linds  ;  next  l>y  alliance  of  Owhhigh,  the 
hori^e-thief,  and  aid  from  the  Iludsoirs  Bay  Com- 
jtany  ;  then  between  tlie  files  of  veteran  ever- 
greens in  plate-armor,  tempered  [)urple  by  the 
liery  i^un,  and  across  prairies  where  might  have 
hung  an  ominous  mist  of  blood.  Now  siiddeidy, 
as  KUde  the  untiring  disentangled  iis  I'roivi  the 
black  I'orest,  ami  galloped  out  upon  a  little  prai- 
rie, delighted  to  eoml)  his  i'etlocks  in  the  long 
yolluw  grass,  1  beheld  Tacoma  at  hand,  still  un- 
dwarl'cd  by  any  underlift  of  lower  ridges,  and 
only  its  snows  above  the  pines.  Over  the  pines, 
tiie  snow  peak  against  the  sky  presented  the  quiet 
fViiternal  tricolor  of  nature,  who  always,  where 
there  is  default  of  uppermost  peaks  to  be  wliite 
with  clouds  fallen  in  the  form  of  snow,  brings  tho 
clouds  themselves,  so  changefully  fair  that  we 
liurdly  wish  them  more  sul»limely  i)crmanent, 
and  heaps  them  al)ove  the  green  against  the  blue. 
I'ere,  then,  against  the  iinapproachai)le  glory  of 
ail  Oregon  summer  sky  stood  Taconia,  less  dreamy 
than  when  I  floated  over  its  sh.adow,  but  not  less 
divine, —  no  divine  thing  dwindles  as  one  wUb 
Bparks  of  diviueness  iu  his  mind  approaches. 


1 


c 

k. 


m 


1 
I 


1 
I 


I 

) 
s 

f 


THE  CANOE  AND  THE  SADDLE. 


Yet  I  could  not  dally  here  to  watch  Tacoma 
bloom  at  sunset  against  a  violet  sky.  Alas  that 
life  with  an  olycct  cannot  linger  among  its  own 
sweet  episodes!  My  camp  was  fartlier  on,  l)Ut 
the  revolutionary  memher  of  the  party,  Antijh 
odes,  hinted  that  we  would  do  wisely  to  set  up 
our  tal)ernacle  here.  His  view  oi*  such  a  hint 
was  to  holt  otr  where  grass  grew  highest,  and 
standing  there  interpose  a  mohile  l)attery  of  heels 
between  Ins  flanks  and  their  castigators.  This 
plan  failed  ;  a  horse  cannot  balance  on  his  fore 
legs  and  take  hasty  bites  of  long,  luxurious  fod- 
der, while  he  brandishes  his  hind  legs  in  the  air. 
Some  sweeter  morsel  will  divert  his  mind  from 
self-defence ;  his  assailants  will  get  within  his 
guard.  Penance  follows,  and  Antipodes  must 
again  hammer  elephantine  along  the  trail. 

What  now  ?  What  is  this  strange  object  iu 
the  utterly  lonely  woods,  —  a  furry  object  ha]i<^- 
ing  on  a  bush  by  our  faint  and  obstructed  trail  ? 
A  cap  of  fox-skin,  fantastic  with  tails.  And 
wliat,  0  Loolowcan  the  mysterious,  means  this 
tailful  head-gear,  hung  carefully,  as  if  a  signal  ? 
*'  It  is,"  replied  Loolowcan,  depositing  it  upon 
his  capless  mop  of  hair,  *'  my  brother's  cap,  and 
ho  must  be  hereabouts  ;  he  informs  me  of  his 
neighborhood,  and  will  meet  us  presently." 
*'  Son  of  Owhhigh,  what  doth  thy  brother  skulk- 
ing along  our  trail  ?  "     "  How  should  I  know, 


FORESTS   OP    rnE   CASCADES. 


89 


my  chief?  Indian  come,  Indian  go;  ho  somo- 
where,  lie  nowhere.  Perhaps  my  brother  go  to 
moimtuins  see  Tamanolis,  —  want  to  bo  big  medi- 


»» 


cine. 

Presently,  appearing  from  nowhere,  thero 
stood  in  the  trail  a  little,  slial)l)y,  capluss  In- 
dian, armed  with  a  bow  and  arrows,  —  a  per- 
sonage not  at  all  like  tlie  pompous,  wliitc- 
cravatted,  tyjiieal  big-medicine  man  of  civiliza- 
tion, armed  with  gold-headed  cane.  Where  this 
M.  I),  had  been  prowling,  or  from  what  lair  he 
discovered  our  approach,  or  by  what  dodging 
he  evaded  us  along  the  circuits  of  the  trail,  was 
a  mystery  of  which  he  offered  no  explanation. 
The  presence  of  this  disciple  of  Tamanoiis,  this 
tyro  magician,  this  culler  of  simples,  this  ama- 
teur sjiy,  or  whatever  else  he  might  be,  was 
iMiaccountablo.  lie  was  the  counterpart  of 
Loolowcan,  but  evidently  an  inferior  spirit  to 
tlia^  youth  of  promise.  He  offered  me  his  hand, 
not  without  Indian  courtesy,  and  he  and  his 
compatriot,  if  not  brother,  plunged  together 
I  into  a  splutter  of  confidential  talk. 

The  Doctor,  for  he  did  not  introduce  himself 
|l>y  name,  trotted  along  by  the  side  of  the  am- 
Wiiig  Gubbins,  and  soon,  just  before  sunset,  we 
emerged  upon  a  little  circle  of  ferny  prairie, 
our  camp,  already  known  to  me  by  the  descrip- 
tion of  Owhhigh.     The  White  River,  the  S'Kar 


*::^^ 


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90 


HIE  CAXOE  AND  THE  SADDLE. 


mish  flowed  hard  by,  behind  a  belt  of  hixuriant 
arbor-vitae.  With  the  Doctor's  aid,  wo  took 
down  pot  and  pan,  blanket  and  brcad-bajr,  from 
the  galled  back  of  the  mncb-onduring  AMti|>- 
odes,  and  gave  to  hi  in  and  bis  two  comrades 
fidl  license  to  bury  themselves  among  the  tiill, 
fragrant  ferns,  and  nibble,  without  stooping, 
top  bits  from  the  gigantic  grass.  It  was  a 
j)orfcct  spot  for  a  bivouac,  a  fairy  ring  of  ferns 
beneath  the  tall,  dark  shelter  of  the  firs.  Ta- 
coma  was  near,  an  invisible  guardian,  hidden 
by  the  forest.  Beside  us  the  rushing  river 
pounded  lulling  music,  making  rest  sweeter  l)y 
its  contrast  of  tireless  toil.  And  thus  under 
favorable  auspices  we  set  ourselves  to  prepare 
for  the  great  event  of  supper,  —  the  Doctor 
slipping  quietly  into  the  position  of  a  welcome 
guest  without  invitation. 

I  lifted  the  salmon  to  view.  Loolowcan's 
murky  brow  exfjanded.  A  look  became  deci- 
f)heral»le  upon  that  mysterious  phiz,  and  that 
look  meant  gluttony.  The  delicate  substance 
of  my  aristocratic  fish  was  presently  to  be  de- 
voured by  frowzy  Klickatat.  At  least,  0  pair  of 
bush-i»oys,  you  shall  have  cleanlier  ideas  of  cook- 
cry  than  heretofore  in  your  gypsy  life,  and  be 
taught  that  civilization  in  me,  its  representative 
for  want  of  a  better,  does  not  disdain  accepting 
the  captaincy  of  a  kitchen  battery.     First,  then, 


rORK.vrS  OF   THK   CASCADKS. 


91 


my  marmitons,  clear  yo  a  space  carefully  of  herb- 
ajrc,  and  trample  down  tl»e  ferns  al)()ut,  lest  tlio 
tliune  of  our  fire  show  aflinity  to  this  natural 
hay,  and  our  fair  paddock  become  a  charred 
and  desolate  waste.  We  will  have  salmon  in 
tinee  courses  on  this  festive  occasion,  when  I, 
for  the  first  time,  entertain  two  younj^  Klicka- 
tats  of  distinction.  Do  thou,  Loolowcan,  seek 
l)y  the  river-side  tenacious  twigs  of  alder  and 
luiiple,  wherewith  to  construct  an  upright  grid- 
iron. One  blushing  half  of  that  swimmer  of  the 
Puyallop  shall  stand  and  toast  on  this  slight 
scallblding.  Portions  from  the  other  half  shall 
l»e  fried  in  this  pan,  and  other  portions,  from  the 
thicker  part,  shall  be  neatly  wrapped  in  green 
leaves,  and  bake  beneath  the  ashes. 

So  it  was  done,  and  well  done.  The  colors 
that  are  encased  within  a  salmon,  awaiting  firo 
that  tliey  may  bloom,  came  forth  artistically. 
On  the  toasted  surface  brightened  warm  yellows, 
and  ruddy  orange  ;  and  delicate  pinkness,  soft- 
ened with  downy  gray,  suffused  the  separating 
flakes.  Potatoes,  too,  roasted  beneath  aromatic 
ashes  by  the  side  of  roasting  blocks  of  salmon, — 
potatoes  hardened  their  crusts  against  too  ardent 
heat,  that  slowly  ripeness  might  penetrate  to  their 
heart  of  hearts.  Unworthy  the  cook  that  does 
not  feel  the  poetry  of  his  trade  ! 

The  two  Klickatats,  whether  brothers  or  fel- 


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Photographic 

Sciences 
Corporation 


23  WEST  MAIN  STREET 

WEBSTER,  N.Y.  14580 

(716)  872-4503 


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92 


THE  CANOE  AND  THE  SADDLE. 


'i 


low-clansmen,  feasted  enormously.  Rasher  after 
rasher  of  the  fried,  block  after  block  of  the  roast- 
ed, flake  after  flake  of  the  toasted  salmon  van- 
ished. I  should  have  supposed  that  the  Doctor 
was  suffering  with  a  bulimy,  after  short  commons 
in  his  worship  of  Tamanoiis,  the  mountain  demon, 
had  not  the  appetite  of  Loolowcan,  although  well 
fed  at  three  meals  in  my  service,  been  equal  or 
greater.  Before  they  were  quite  gorged,  I  made 
them  a  pot  of  tea,  well  boiled  and  sticky  with 
sugar,  and  then  retired  to  my  dhudeen.  Tho 
summer  evening  air  enfolded  me  sweetly,  and 
down  from  the  cliffs  and  snowy  mounds  of 
Tacoma  a  cool  breeze  fell  like  the  spray  of  a 
cascade. 

After  their  banquet,  the  Indians  were  in  merry 
mood,  and  fell  to  chaffing  one  another.  With 
me  Loolowcan  was  taciturn.  I  could  not  tell 
whether  he  was  dull,  sulky,  or  suspicious.  When 
I  smote  him  with  the  tempered  steel  of  a  keen 
query,  meaning  to  elicit  sparks  of  information 
on  Indian  topics,  no  illumination  came.  He 
acted  judiciously  his  part,  and  talked  little.  Nor 
did  he  bore  me  with  hints,  as  bystanders  do  in 
Christendom,  but  believed  that  I  knew  also  my 
part.  With  his  comrade  he  was  communicative 
and  jolly,  even  to  uproariousness.  They  laughed 
sunset  out  and  twilight  in,  finding  entertainment 
in  everything  that  was  or  that  happened,  —  in 


i^ 


FORESTS   OF  THE  CASCADES. 


93 


their  raggedness,  in  the  holes  in  their  moccasins, 
in  their  overstuffed  proportions  after  dinner,  in 
the  little  skirmishes  of  the  horses,  when  a  grass- 
hopper chirped  or  a  cricket  sang,  when  either  of 
them  found  a  sequence  of  blackberries  or  pricked 
himself  with  a  thorn,  — in  every  fact  of  our  little 
world  these  children  of  nature  found  wonderment 
and  fun.  They  laughed  themselves  sleepy,  and 
then  dropped  into  slumber  in  the  ferny  covert. 

As  night  drew  on,  heaven  overhead,  seen  as 
from  the  bottom  of  a  well,  was  so  starry  clear 
and  intelligible,  and  the  circuit  of  forest  so  dreamy 
mysterious  by  contrast,  that  I  found  restful  de- 
light, better  than  sleep,  in  studying  the  clearness 
above  the  mystery.  But  twilight  drifted  away 
after  the  sun,  and  darkness  blackened  my  green 
blankets.  I  mummied  myself  in  their  folds,  and 
rolled  in  among  the  tall,  elastic,  fragrant  ferns. 

My  last  vision,  as  sleep  came  upon  me,  was  the 
eyes  of  Loolowcan  staring  at  me,  and  glowing 
serpent-like.  At  midnight,  when  I  stirred,  the 
same  look  watched  me  by  the  dim  light  of  our 
embers.  And  when  gray  dawn  drew  over  our 
bivouac,  and  my  blankets  from  black  to  green 
began  to  turn,  the  same  dusky,  unvariegated 
eyeballs  were  inspecting  me  still.  As  to  the 
little  medicine-man,  he  had  no  responsibility  at 
present ;  a  pleasant  episode  had  befallen  him, 
and  he  made  the  most  of  it,  sleeping  un watch- 
fully. 


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m 

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94 


THE  CANOE  AND  THE  SADDLE. 


Seediness  of  a  morning  is  not  the  meed  of  him 
who  has  slept  near  Tacoma  with  naught  but  a  green 
blanket  and  miles  of  elastic  atmosphere  between 
him  and  the  stars.  When  I  woke,  sleep  fell  from 
me  suddenly,  as  a  lowly  disguise  falls  from  a 
prince  in  a  pantomime.  I  sprang  up,  myself, 
fresh,  clear-eyed,  and  with  never  a  regretful  yawn. 
Nothing  was  astir  in  nature  save  the  river,  rush- 
ing nigh  at  hand,  and  rousing  me  to  my  day's 
career  by  its  tale  of  travel  and  urgency. 

It  was  a  joy  to  behold  three  horses  so  well  fed 
as  my  stud  appeared.  Klale  looked  toward  me 
and  whinnied  gratefully  for  the  juicy  grasses  and 
ferny  bed  of  his  sheltered  paddock,  and  also  for 
the  remembrance  of  a  new  sensation  he  had  had 
the  day  before,  —  he  had  carried  a  biped  through 
a  day  of  travel,  and  the  biped  had  not  massacred 
him  with  his  whip.  Klale  thought  better  and 
more  hopefully  of  humanity.  Tougher  Gubbins, 
who,  with  Loolowcan  on  his  back,  had  had  no 
such  experience,  sung  no  paeans,  but  stood  doltr 
ishly  awaiting  a  continuance  of  the  inevitable  dis- 
comforts of  life. 

After  breakfast,  the  Doctor  hinted  that  he  liked 
my  cheer  and  my  society,  and  would  gladly  vol- 
unteer to  accompany  me  if  I  would  mount  him 
upon  Antipodes.  I  pointed  out  to  him  that  it 
would  be  weak  to  follow  with  us  along  flowery 
paths  of  pleasure,  when  stern  virtue  called  him  to 


FORESTS   OF   THE   CASCADES. 


Ut 


the  monntain-tops ;  that  Tamanous  would  not  par* 
don  backsliding.  I  suggested  that  I  was  prepared 
for  the  appetite  of  only  one  Klickatat  gounnand^ 
and  that  my  tacit  bargain  with  Antipodes  did  not 
include  his  carrying  an  eater  as  well  as  provis- 
ions. The  youth  received  my  refusal  impassive- 
ly ;  to  ask  for  everything,  and  never  be  disap- 
pointed at  getting  nothing,  is  Indian  manners. 
We  left  him  standing  among  the  ferns,  gazing 
vacantly  upon  the  world,  and  devouring  a  pres- 
ent of  hard-tack  I  had  given  him,  —  lie  was 
ridding  himself  at  once  of  that  memorial  of  civ- 
ilization, that,  with  bow  and  arrows  in  hand,  he 
might  relapse  into  barbarism,  in  pathless  wilds 
along  the  flanks  of  Tacoma. 

Soon  the  trail  took  a  dip  in  the  river,  —  a 
morning  bath  in  S'Kamish.  Rapid,  turbulent, 
and  deep  was  the  S'Kamish,  white  with  powder 
of  the  boulders  it  had  been  churning  above, 
and  so  turbid  that  boulders  here  were  invis- 
ible. We  must  ford  with  our  noses  pointing 
up  stream,  lest  the  urgent  water,  bearing  against 
the  broadsides  of  our  unsteady  horses,  should 
dowse,  if  not  drown  us.  Ellale,  floundering 
sometimes,  but  always  recovering  himself,  took 
me  over  stoutly.  My  moccasins  and  scarlet  leg- 
gins  were  wet,  but  I  had  not  become  dazed 
in  the  whirr  and  fallen,  as  it  is  easy  to  do. 
Lubberly  Antipodes    flinched.      He  had    some 


^  IS-  '   ;» 

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96 


THE  CANOE  AND  THE  SADDLE. 


stupid  theory  that  the  spot  we  had  chosen,  just 
at  the  break  above  of  a  rapid,  was  a  less  com- 
modious ford  thau  the  smooth  whirlpools  below. 
He  turned  aside  from  honest  roughness  to  delud- 
ing smoothness.  He  stepped  into  the  treacherous 
pool,  and  the  waters  washed  over  him.  There 
was  bread  in  the  bags  he  bore.  In  an  instant 
he  scrambled  out,  trying  to  look  meritorious, 
as  dolts  do  when  they  have  done  doltishly  and 
yet  escaped.  And  there  was  pulp  in  the  bags 
he  bore.  Pulp  of  hard-tack  was  now  oozing 
through  the  seams.  I  was  possessor  of  two  bag 
puddings.  My  cakes  were  dough.  Downright 
and  desiccating  may  be  the  sunshine  of  Ore- 
gon August,  but  pilot-bread  converted  into  wet 
sponge  resists  a  sunbeam  as  a  cotton-bale  resists 
a  cannon-ball.  Only  a  few  inner  layers  of  the 
bread  were  untouched ;  as  to  the  outer  strata, 
mouldiness  pervaded  them.  Yet  some  one  prof- 
ited by  this  disaster ;  Loolowcan  henceforth  had 
mouldy  biscuit  at  discretion.  His  discretion 
would  not  have  rejected  even  a  fungous  article. 
To  him  my  damp  and  crumbling  crackers  were 
a  delicacy,  the  better  for  their  earthy  fragrance 
and  partial  fermentation. 

We  struck  the  trail  again  after  this  slight 
misadventure,  and  went  on  through  forests 
nobler  and  denser  than  those  of  the  dry  levels 
near  Whulgo.     The  same  S'Kamish  floods  that 


FORESTS   OF   THE   CASCADES. 


97 


spoiled  my  farinaceous  stores  nourishea'  to 
greater  growth  the  mighty  vegetables  of  this 
valley.  The  arbor-vitaD  here  gained  grander 
arborescence  and  fresher  vitality.  This  shrub 
of  our  gardens  in  the  Middle  States,  and  gnarled 
tree  of  the  Northeast,  becomes  in  the  North- 
west a  giant  pyramid,  with  rich  plates  of  foliage 
drooping  massively  about  a  massive  trunk.  Its 
full,  juicy  verdure,  sweeping  to  the  ground,  is 
a  relief  after  the  monotony  of  the  stark  stems 
of  fir  forests.  There  was  no  lack  of  luxuriant 
undergrowth  along  these  lowlands  by  the  river. 
The  narrow  trail  plunged  into  thickets  impene- 
trable but  for  its  aid.  Wherever  ancient  trunks 
had  fallen,  there  they  lay ;  some  in  old  decay 
had  become  green,  mossy  mounds,  the  long 
graves  of  prostrate  giants,  so  carefully  draped 
with  their  velvet  covering,  that  all  sense  of  ruin 
was  gone.  And  some,  that  fell  from  uprightness 
but  a  few  seasons  ago,  showed  still  their  purple 
bark  deepening  in  hue  and  dotted  with  tufts  of 
moss;  or  where  a  crack  had  opened  and  re- 
vealed their  inner  structure  rotting  slowly  away, 
there  was  such  warm  coloring  as  nature  loves  to 
shed,  that  even  decay  may  not  be  unlovely,  and 
ithe  powdery  wood,  fractured  into  flaky  cubes, 
showed  browns  deep  as  the  tones  of  old  Flem- 
ish pictures,  or  changeful  agate-like  crimsons 
[and  solid  yellows.     Not  always  had  the  ancient 


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98 


THE  CANOE  ANli  THE  SADDLE. 


stem  fallen  to  lie  prone  and  hidden  by  youngei 
growths,  whose  life  was  sucked  from  the  corse 
of  their  ancestor.  Sometimes,  as  the  antiquated 
arbor-vitae,  worn  away  at  its  base,  swayed,  bent, 
and  went  crashing  downward,  it  had  been  arrest- 
ed among  the  close  ranks  of  upstart  trunks,  and 
hung  there  still,  with  long  gray  moss  floating 
from  it,  like  the  torn  banners  in  a  baronial 
chapel,  —  hung  there  until  its  heart  should  rot 
and  crumble,  and  then,  its  shell  of  bark  break- 
ing, it  should  give  way,  and  shower  down  in 
scales  and  dust.  ,        ,  .        ^     ^ 

In  this  Northern  forest  there  was  no  feverish 
apprehension,  such  as  we  feel  in  a  jungle  of  tlie 
tropics,  that  every  breath  may  be  poison,  —  that 
centipede  in  boot  and  scorpion  in  pocket,  mere 
external  perils,  will  be  far  less  fatal  than  tlie| 
inhaling  of  dense  miasms,  stirred  from  villa- 
nous  ambushes  beneath  mounds  of  flowery  ver- 
dure. Here  no  black  and  yellow  serpent  de-l 
fended  the  way,  lifting  above  its  ugly  coil  a 
mobile  head,  with  jaws  that  quiver  and  fangs 
that  play.  It  was  a  forest  without  poison, -| 
without  miasma,  and  without  venom. 

It  was  a  forest  just  not  impassable  for  a  train | 
like   mine,  and   the   trail  was  but  a  faint  indi- 
cation of  a  way,  suggesting  nothing  except  to 
the  trained  eye  of  an  Indian.     Into  the  pleacliedj 
thickets  Klale  could  plunge  and  crash  througIi,| 


FORESTS   OF  THE   CASCADES. 


99 


feverisli 
e  of  tlie ' 
,,  — that| 
et,  merel 
,han  tliel 
villa- 1 
ery  ver- 
•eiit  de-l 
coil  a 
d  fangs 


while  his  cavalier  fought  against  buffeting 
branches,  and  bent  to  saddle-horn  to  avoid  the 
fate  of  Absalom.  But  when  new-fallen  trunks 
of  the  sylvan  giants,  or  great  mossy  mounds, 
built  barricades  across  the  path,  tall  as  tho 
quadruped  whose  duty  it  was  to  leap  over  tliem 
—  how  in  such  case  Klalo  the  sprightly  ?  how 
here  Antipodes  the  flounderer?  how  Gubbius, 
stiff  in  the  joints  ? 

Thus,  by  act  answered  Klale,  —  thus;  by  a 
leap,  by  a  scramble,  by  a  jerking  plunge,  by 
a  somerset ;  like  a  cat,  like  a  squirrel,  like  a 
monkey,  like  an  acrobat,  like  a  mustang.  To 
overpass  these  obstacles  is  my  business ;  be  it 
yours  to  pass  with  me.  You  must  prove  to  me, 
a  nag  of  the  Klickatats,  that  Boston  strangers 
are  as  sticky  as  siwashes.  Centaurs  have  some- 
what gone  out.  I  have  been  a  party  and  an 
actor  when  the  mustang  sprang  lightly  over  the 
barricade,  and  his  rider  stayed  upon  the  other 
side  supine,  and  gazing  still  where  he  had  ^'>%t 
seen  a  disappearance  of  horse-heels.  '■ 

Not  wishing  to  lose  the  respect  of  so  near  a 
comrade  as  my  horse,  I  did  not  allow  our  union 
to  be  dissolved.  We  clung  together  like  volun- 
tary Siamese  twins,  dashing  between  fir-trunks, 
where  my  nigh  leg  or  my  off  leg  must  whisk 
away  to  avoid  amputation,  thrusting  ourselves 
beneath  the  aromatic  deaseness  of  the  drooping 


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100 


THE  CANOK  AND  THE  SADDLE. 


•I  I 


!    i 


arbor-vitae,  smothered  together  in  punk  when  a 
moss  luoiiud  gave  way  and  we  sank  down  intc 
the  dusty  grave  of  a  buried  monarch  of  Ins  dell, 
or  caught  and  balanced  half-way  over  as  we  es- 
sayed to  leap  the  broad  back  of  a  fir  fifteen  feot 
in  the  girth.  Whether  Klale,  in  our  frantic 
scrambles,  became  a  biped,  gesticulating  and 
clutching  tlie  air  with  two  hoofed  arms,  —  or 
whether  a  monopod,  alighted  on  his  nose  and 
lifting  on  high  a  quintette  of  terminations,  four 
legs  and  a  tail,  —  still  Klale  and  I  remained  in- 
separable. 

Assuredly  the  world  has  no  path  worse  than 
that,  —  not  even  South  American  muds  or  dam- 
aged corduroys  in  tropic  swamps.  But  men  must 
pay  their  footing  by  labor,  and  we  urged  on,  with 
horses  educated  to  tlieir  task,  often  fording  the 
S'Kamish,  and  careless  now  of  wetting,  clam- 
bering up  ridges  black  with  sunless  woods,  and 
penetrating  steadily  on  through  imperviousness. 
Indian  trails  aim  at  the  open  hill-sides  and  avoid 
the  thickset  valleys ;  but  in  this  most  primeval 
of  forests  the  obstacles  on  the  rugged  buttresses 
of  the  Cascade  chain  were  impracticable  as  the 
dense  growth  below.  ... 

"Ancoti  nesika  nanitch  Boston  hooihut; 
presently  we  see  the  Boston  road,"  said  Loolow- 
can.  A  glad  sight  whenever  it  comes,  should 
''  Boston  road"  here  imply  neat  Macadari,  well* 


FORESTS  OF  THE  CASCADES. 


101 


kept  sidewalks,  and  files  of  pretty  cottages,  be- 
hind screens  of  disciplined  shrubbery.  I  had 
heard  indefinitely  that  a  party  of  "  Boston  "  men 
—  for  so  all  Americans  are  called  in  the  Chinook 
jargon  —  were  out  from  the  settlements  of 
Whulge,  viewing,  or  possibly  opening,  a  way 
across  the  Cascades,  that  emigrants  of  this  sum- 
mer might  find  their  way  into  Washington  Terri- 
tory direct,  leaving  the  great  overland  caravan 
route  near  the  junction  of  the  two  forks  of  the 
Columbia.  Such  an  enterprise  was  an  epoch  in 
progress.  It  was  the  first  effort  of  an  infant 
community  to  assert  its  individuality  and  eman- 
cipate itself  from  the  tutelage  of  Oregon. 

Very  soon  the  Boston  hooihut  became  appar- 
ent. An  Indian's  trail  came  into  competition 
with  a  civilized  man's  rude  beginnings  of  a  road. 
Wood-choppers  had  passed  through  the  forest, 
like  a  tornado,  making  a  broad  belt  of  confusion. 
Trim  Boston  neighborhoods  would  have  scoffed 
at  this  rough-and-tumble  cleft  of  the  wild  wood, 
and  declined  being  responsible  for  its  title.  And 
yet  two  centuries  before  this  tramp  of  mine,  my 
progenitors  were  cutting  just  such  paths  near 
Boston,  and  then  Canonicus,  Chickatabot,  and 
Passaconomy,  sagamores  of  that  region,  were  re- 
garding the  work  very  much  as  Owhhigh,  Skloo, 
and  Kamaiakan,  the  "  tyees  "  hereabouts,  might 
contrast  this  path  with  theirs.     At  present  this 


•K      ;     -Mi 


f 


» 


Ij 
^  f 

I 

I 
) 


f 


102 


THE  CANOE  AND  THE  SADDLE. 


triumvirato  of  cliicftaiiily  si  washes  would  hava 
rightly  doomed  tho  Boston  road  far  inferior  to 
their  own.  So  tho  unenlightened  generally 
doom,  when  they  inspect  tho  destruction  that 
precedes  reconstruction.  Tiiis  was  a  transition 
period.  In  the  Cascades,  Klickatat  institutions 
'vero  toppling,  Boston  notions  coming  in.  It 
was  the  fulness  of  time.  Owhhigh  and  his  pirati- 
cal band,  slaves  of  Time  and  Space,  might  go 
dodging  with  lazy  detours  about  downcast  trunks, 
about  tangles  of  shrubs  and  brambles,  about 
,  zones  of  morass ;  but  Boston  clans  were  now,  iu 
the  latter  day,  on  tho  march,  intending  to  bo 
masters  of  Time  and  Space,  and  straightforward- 
ness was  to  be  the  law  of  motion  here.         ' 

It  was  a  transition  state  of  things  on  the  Bos- 
ton hooihut,  with  all  the  incommodities  of  that 
condition.  The  barricades  of  destructive  disor- 
der were  in  place,  not  yet  displaced  by  construc- 
tive order.  Passage  by  this  road  of  the  future 
was  monstrous  hard.   ;       '       ;  ^  .: 

There  is  really  no  such  thing  as  a  conservative. 
Joshua  is  the  only  one  on  record  who  ever  ac- 
complished anything,  and  he  only  kept  things 
quiet  for  one  day.  We  must  either  move  for- 
ward with  Hope  and  Faith,  or  backward  to  decay 
and  death  of  tho  soul.  But  though  no  man,  not 
even  himself,  has  any  real  faith  in  a  conservative, 
for  this  one  occasion  I  was  compelled  to  violate 

\ 


FOUESTS  OF  THE  CASCADES. 


103 


the  law  of  my  nature,  —  to  identify  myself  with 
conservatism,  and  take  the  ancient  trail  instead 
of  tlie  modern  highway.  Stitf  as  the  obstacles 
ill  the  trail  might  he,  tlie  obstacles  of  the  road 
were  still  stilfer ;  stumps  were  in  it,  fresh  cut 
and  upstanding  with  sharp  or  splintered  edges; 
felled  trunks  were  in  it.  with  wedge-shaped  huts 
and  untrimmed  branches,  forming  impregnable 
abattis.  One  might  enter  those  green  bowers  as 
a  lobster  enters  the  pot ;  extrication  was  another 
and  a  tougher  task.  Every  inch  of  the  surface 
was  planted  with  laming  caltrops,  and  the  sap- 
lings and  briers  that  once  grew  there  elastic 
were  now  thrown  together,  a  bristling  hedge. 
A  belt  of  forest  had  been  unmade  and  nothing 
made.  Patriotic  sympathy  did  indeed  influence 
nic  to  stumble  a  little  way  along  this  shaggy 
waste.  1  launched  my  train  into  this  complex- 
ity, floundered  awhile  in  one  of  its  unbridged 
bogs,  and  wrestled  in  its  thorny  labyrinths,  until 
80  much  of  my  patience  as  was  not  bemired  was 
flagellated  to  death  by  scorpion  scourges  of 
briers.  I  trod  these  mazes  until  even  Klale 
showed  signs  of  disgust,  and  Antipodes,  ungainly 
plodder,  could  only  be  propelled  by  steady  disci- 
pline of  thwacks.  Then  I  gave  up  my  attempt 
to  be  a  consistent  radical.  I  shook  off  the  shav- 
ings and  splinters  of  a  pioneer  chaos,  and  fell 
back  into  primeval  ways.     In  the  siwash  hooi- 


i 


f- 


tr 

<« 

3 

i 
1 
I 

I 


1  : 
I 

•   I 
f 


104 


THE  CANOE  AND  THE  SADDLE. 


hut  there  was  nothing  to  be  expected,  and  there- 
fore no  acrid  pang  of  disappointment  pierced  my 
prophetic  soul  when  I  found  that  path  no  better 
than  it  should  be.  Pride  fired  those  dusky  tun 
nels,  the  eyes  of  Loolowcan,  when  we  alighted 
again  upon  his  national  road.  The  Boston  hooi- 
hut  was  a  failure,  a  miserable  muddle.  Loolow- 
can leaped  Gubbins  over  the  first  barricade, 
and,  pointing  where  Antipodes  trotted  to  tlie 
sound  of  rattling  packs  along  the  serpentine  way, 
said  calmly,  and  without  too  ungenerous  scorn, 
"  Closche  ocook ;  beautiful  this." 

Though  I  had  abandoned  their  undone  road,  I 
was  cheered  to  have  met  fresh  traces  of  my  coun- 
trymen. Their  tree  surgery  was  skilful.  No 
clumsy,  tremulous  hand  had  done  butchery  here 
with  haggling  axe.  The  chopping  was  handiwork 
of  artists,  men  worthy  to  be  regicide  headsmen 
of  forest  monarchs.  By  their  cleavage  light  first 
shone  into  this  gloaming ;  the  selfish  grandeurs 
of  this  incognito  earth  were  opened  to  day.  I 
flung  myself  forward  two  ceiituries,  and  thanked 
these  pioneers  in  the  persons  of  posterity  dwell- 
ing peacefully  in  this  noble  region.  He  who 
strikes  the  first  blow  merits  all  thanks.  May  my 
descendants  be  as  grateful  to  these  Boston  men 
as  I  am  now  to  the  Boston  men  of  two  centuries 
ago.  And  may  they  remember  ancestral  perils 
and    difliculties   kindly,  as  I  now  recall  how 


«jesE^ 


FORESTS   OF  THE   CASCADES. 


105 


godly  Puritans  once  brandished  ruder  axes  and 
bill-hooks,  opening  paths  of  future  peace  on  the 
shores  of  Massachusetts. 

Our  ascent  was  steady  along  the  gorge  of  the 
S'Kamish,  ever  in  this  same  dense  forest.  We 
had,  however,  escaped  from  the  monotony  of  the 
bare  (ir-trunks.  Columns,  even  such  as  those 
gracefullest  relics  of  Olympian  Jove's  temple  by 
the  Cephissus,  would  weary  were  they  planted 
in  ranks  for  leagues.  The  magnificent  pyramids 
of  arbor-vitae  filled  the  wood  with  sheen  from 
their  bright,  varnished  leafage.  It  was  an  un 
tenanted,  silent  forest,  but  silence  here  in  this 
sunshiny  morning  I  found  not  awful,  hardly 
even  solemn.  Solitude  became  to  me  personal, 
and  pregnant  with  possible  emanations,  as  if  I 
were  a  faithful  pagan  in  those  early  days  when 
gods  were  seen  of  men,  and  when,  under  Grecian 
skies,  Pan  and  the  Naiads  whispered  their  secrets 
to  the  lover  of  Nature. 

There  was  rough  vigor  in  these  scenes,  which 
banished  the  half-formed  dread  that  forest  lone- 
liness and  silence  without  a  buzz  or  a  song,  and 
dim  vistas  where  sunlight  falls  in  ghostly  shapes, 
and  leaves  shivering  as  if  a  sprite  had  passed, 
may  inspire.  Pan  here  would  have  come  in  the 
form  of  a  rough,  jolly  giant,  typifying  the  big,  be- 
neficent  forces  of  Nature  in  her  rugged  moods. 
Instead  of  dreading  such  a  comrade,  his  presence 

5* 


I*.-- 


11 

.I* 

^         1 
I 


C, 


I 


mt 

•IV. 


I 

m 
f 


106 


THE  CANOE  AND  THE  SADDLE. 


seemed  a  fitting  culmination  to  the  influences  of 
the  spot,  and,  yielding  to  a  wild  exhilaration,  I 
roused  the  stillness  with  appealing  shouts. 

"  Mika  wah  wah  copa  Tamanoiis  ?  you  talk 
with  demons?"  inquired  Loolowcan  with  some- 
thing of  mysterious  awe  in  his  tone. 

I  called  unto  the  gods  of  tlie  forest,  but  none 
answered.  No  sound  came  back  to  me  save 
some  chance  shots  of  echo  where  my  voice  struck 
a  gray,  sinewy  cedar-trunk,  that  rang  again,  or 
the  gentle  murmur  of  solitude  disturbed  deep  in 
the  grove,  as  the  circles  of  agitated  air  vibrated 
again  to  calmness.  No  answer  from  Pan  or 
Pan's  unruly  rout,  —  no  sound  from  Satyr, 
Nymph,  or  Faun,  —  though  I  shouted  and  san^i; 
ever  so  loudly  to  them  upon  my  way.  '      . 

Through  this  broad  belt  of  woodland,  utterly 
lifeless  and  lonely,  I  rode  steadily,  never  dallying. 
In  the  early  afternoon  I  came  upon  a  little  bushy 
level  near  the  S'Kamish.  We  whisked  along  the 
bends  of  the  trail,  when,  suddenly  wliisking,  I 
pounced  upon  a  biped,  —  a  man,  —  a  Caucasian 
man,  —  a  Celtic  soldier,  —  a  wayworn  U.  S. 
Fourth  Infantry  sergeant,  —  a  meditative  smoker, 
apart  from  the  little  army  encamped  within  hail. 

I  followed  him  toward  the  tent  of  his  fellows. 
They  were  not  revelling  in  the  mad  indulgence 
of  camjv-life.  Nor  were  their  prancing  steeds 
cLamping  angry  bits  and  neighing  defiance  at 


^ij 


\ 


li^' 


FORESTS   OF   THE   CASCADES. 


107 


the  foe.  Few  of  those  steeds  were  in  marching, 
much  less  in  prancing  order.  If  they  champed 
their  iron  bits,  it  was  because  tliey  had  no  otlier 
nutriment  to  nibble  at  in  that  adust  halting-pUice. 
As  to  camp  revelry,  the  American  army  has 
revelled  but  once,  —  in  the  Halls  of  the  Moiite- 
zumas,  —  a  very  moderate  allowance  of  revelry 
far  a  space  of  threescore  and  ten  years.  Since 
that  time  they  have  fortunately  escaped  tiie 
uuly  business  of  butchery,  antecedent  to  rev- 
elry. Their  better  duty  has  been  to  act  as  the 
educated  pioneers  and  protectors  of  Westein 
I)r()grcss.  r         ' , 

Such  was  the  oHice  of  this  detachment.  Th.oy 
were  of  Capt.  McClollan's  exjjedition  for  flush- 
ing a  i'acitic  Railroad  in  the  brakes  and  bosks 
and  tangled  forests  of  the  Cascades.  1,  taking 
casual  glimpses  through  intricacy,  had  flushed 
or  scared  up  only  an  unfledged  lioston  hooiluit. 
Their  success  had  been  no  greater,  and  wliile 
llie  main  body  continued  the  hunt,  this  smaller 
party  was  on  commissariat  service,  going  across 
to  Squally  and  Steilacoom  for  other  bags  of  pork 
and  hard-tack,  lest  dinnerlessness  should  befall 
the  Hunters  of  Railroads,  and  there  should  bo 
acliiiig  voids  among  them  that  no  tightening 
of  helt-luickles  could  relieve. 

I  found  an  old  acquaintance,  Lieut.  11.,  in 
command  uf  these  foragers.     Three  months  be- 


•K^i. 


iu 


J 


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»' 

•  «i 

)■ 

t 

J 

1 

\ 

1 

1 

JS4 


I 


I 


m     t 


108 


THE  CANOE  AND  THE  SADDLE. 


fore  we  had  descended  the  terrace  where  Colum- 
bia Barracks  behold  the  magnificent  sweeps  of 
the  Columbia,  and,  far  beyond,  across  a  realm 
of  forest,  Mt.  Hood,  sublime  pyramid  of  snows,  — 
we  had  strolled  down  together  to  the  river-bank 
to  take  our  stirrup-cup  with  Governor  Ogden, 
kindliest  of  hosts,  at  the  Hudson's  Bay  Com- 
pany's post  of  Fort  Vancouver.  Now,  after 
wanderings  hither  and  yon,  we  suddenly  con- 
fronted each  other  in  the  wilderness,  and  ex- 
changed hearty  greetings.  I  was  the  enviable 
man,  with  my  compact  party  and  horses  in 
tolerable  condition.  He  officered  a  squadron 
of  Rosinantes,  a  very  wayworn  set,  and  the 
obstacles  on  the  trail  that  I  could  lightly  skip 
over  he  must  painfully  beleaguer.  He  informed 
me  that  the  road-makers  were  at  work  some- 
where this  side  of  the  summit  of  the  Pass.  I 
might  overtake  them  before  night. 

While  we  sympathized  and  gossiped,  Loolow- 
can  slunk  forward  to  say,  "  Sia-a-ah  mitlite 
ocook  tipsoo,  car  nesika  moosum  ;  far,  far  is 
that  grass  spot  where  we  sleep ;  —  pe  wako 
siah  chaco  polikely;  and  not  far  comes  night." 

So  I  turned  from  the  tents  of  the  busy  camp, 
busy  even  in  repose.  H.  walked  with  me  to 
the  S'Kamish  to  show  me  the  ford.  If  from 
the  scanty  relics  of  his  stores  he  could  not  offer 
hospitality,  he  would  give  me  a  fact  from  his 


FORESTS   OF  THE   CASCADES. 


109 


experience  of  crossing  the  river,  so  that  I  need 
not  dip  involuntarily  in  the  deeps,  and  swallow 
cold  comfort.  On  the  bank  some  whittlers  of 
his  squad  had  amused  themselves  with  whittling 
down  a  taper  fir-tree,  a  slender  wand,  three 
hundred  feet  in  length  from  where  its  but  lay 
among  the  chips,  to  the  tip  of  its  pompon, 
where  it  had  fallen  across  the  stream. 

H.  looked  suspiciously  upon  the  low-browed 
and  frowzy  Loolowcan,  and  doubted  the  safety 
and  certainty  of  journeying  with  such  a  guide 
in  such  a  region,  —  as,  indeed,  I  did  myself.  I 
forded  imducked  in  the  ripples,  turned  to  wave 
him  adieu,  and  blotted  myself  out  of  his  sphere 
behind  the  sky-scraper  firs.  We  met  next  in 
the  foyer  of  the  opera,  between  acts  of  Tra- 
viata.  ^  '      ' 

Loneliness  no  longer  lay  heavy  in  the  woods. 
It  was  shattered  and  trampled  out  where  that 
little  army  had  marched.  Presently  in  their 
trail  a  ghostly  object  appeared,  —  not  a  ghost, 
but  something  tending  fast  toward  the  ghostly 
state  ;  a  poor,  wasted,  dreary  white  horse,  stand- 
ing in  the  trail,  abandoned,  too  stiff  to  fall,  too 
weary  to  stir.  Every  winged  phlebotomizer  of 
the  Oregon  woods  seemed  to  have  hastened 
hither  to  blacken  that  pale  horse,  soon  to  be 
Death's,  and,  though  he  trembled  feebly,  he  had 
not  power  to  scatter  the  nipping  insects  with  a 


«* «« >■■•»• 

■•»■   .-         « 
..  .        ^* 

I 

4^ 


cqUBit    *-^ 


• 


1 

1 ' 
I 


■-f 

-» 

■  r 

m 

> 

1 

1 

Tt         ( 

0' 

f 

110 


THE  CANOE  AND  THE  SADDLE. 


convulsive  shake.  I  approached,  and  whisked 
away  his  tormentors  by  the  aid  of  a  maple-buhh. 
They  fought  me  for  a  while,  hut  finding  mo 
resolute,  confident  in  their  long-enduring  pa- 
tience, tliey  retired  with  a  loud  and  angry  buzz. 
1  could  find  no  morsel  of  refreshment  for  him 
in  the  bitter  woods.  At  mouldy  hard-tack  he 
shook  a  despairing  head.  In  fact,  it  was  too 
late.  Tliere  comes  a  time  to  horses  when  they 
cannot  prance  with  the  prancers,  or  plod  with 
the  j)lodders,  or  trail  weary  hoofs  after  the  marcli 
of  their  comrades.  Yet  it  was  more  chivalric 
for  this  worn-out  cstray  to  die  here  in  the  aro- 
matic forest,  than  to  lose  life  iu  the  vile  ooze  of 
a  Broadway.  '  - 

Poor,  lean  mustang,  victim  of  progress  !  Noth- 
ing to  do  but  let  him  die,  since  I  could  not  bring 
mvself  to  a  merciful  assassination.  So  I  went  on 
disconsolate  after  the  sight  of  sutfering,  until  my 
own  difficulties  along  that  savage  trail  compelled 
my  thought  away  from  dwelling  ou  another's 
pain. 


■f  . 


5       L 


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./      ,;t'V-'- 


■'.'J^V) 


-  \ 


VI. 


•'BOSTON   TILICUM." 

Night  was  now  coming,  —  twilight,  dearest  and 
tenderest  of  all  the  beautiful  changes  of  circling 
day  was  upon  us.  But  twilight,  the  period  of 
repose,  and  night,  of  restful  slumbers,  are  not 
welcome  to  campaigners,  unless  a  camp,  with 
water,  fodder,  and  fuel,  the  three  requisites  of  a 
camp,  are  provided.  We  saw  our  day  waning 
without  having  revealed  to  us  a  spot  where  these 
tlirce  were  coincident.  Fuel,  indeed,  there  was 
anywliere  witliout  stint,  and  water  might  be  found 
without  mucli  searching.  But  in  this  primeval 
wood  tliere  were  no  beds  of  verdant  herbage 
wliere  Klale  and  his  companions  might  solace 
tliemselves  for  clambering  and  plunging  and 
leaping  all  day.  Verdancy  enough  there  was 
under  foot,  but  it  was  the  green  velvet  of  eartiiy 
moss.  In  some  dusty,  pebbly  openings  where 
the  river  overflows  in  spring,  the  horses  had 
l»ad  a  noon  nibble  at  spears  of  grass,  juiceless, 
scanty,  and  unattractive.  My  trio  of  hungry 
borses  flagged  sadly.  •[ 


ft- 


* 

I 

*  ■ 


1 
I 


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•ti 


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1 


i  i 

1 

I 

M 

I 

I 


■m 
I 

I 

m 

I 


112 


THE  CANOE  AND  THE  SADDLE. 


It  was  darkening  fast  wlien  we  reached  an 
open  spot  where  Loolowcan  had  hoped  to  find 
grass.  Arid  starvation  alone  was  visible.  Even 
snch  wiry  attempts  at  verdure  as  the  stagnant 
blood  of  this  petty  desert  had  been  able  to  force 
up  through  its  harsh  pores  were  long  ago  shaved 
away  by  drought.  Tiie  last  nibbles  had  been 
taken  to-day  by  the  sorry  steeds  of  the  exploring 
party. 

There  was  nothing  for  it  but  to  go  on. 
Whither?  To  the  next  crossing  of  the  river, 
where  the  horses  might  make  what  they  could 
out  of  water,  and  entertain  themselves  with 
browsing  at  alder  and  maple. 

We  hurried  on,  for  it  was  now  dark.  The 
Boston  hooihut  suddenly  came  charging  out  of 
the  gloaming,  and  crossed  the  trail.  Misunder- 
standing the  advice  of  ray  taciturn  and  mono- 
syllabic guide,  I  left  the  Indian  way,  and  followed 
the  white  man's.  Presently  it  ended,  but  the 
trees  were  blazed  where  it  should  pass.  Blazes 
were  but  faint  signals  of  guidance  by  twilight. 
Dimmer  grew  the  woods.  Stars  were  visible 
overhead,  and  the  black  circles  of  the  forest  shut 
off  the  last  gleams  of  the  west.  Every  obstacle 
of  fallen  tree,  bramble,  and  quagmire  now 
loomed  large  and  formidable.  And  then  in 
the  darkness,  now  fully  possessor  of  the  woods, 
the  blazes  suddenly  disappeared,  went  out,  and 


"BOSTON  TILICUM." 


iia 


ceased,  like  a  deluding  willV-the-wisp.  Here 
was  a  crisis.  Had  the  hooihut  actually  given 
out  here  in  an  invisible  blaze,  high  up  a  stump  ? 
Road  that  dared  so  much  and  did  so  much,  were 
its  energies  effete,  its  purpose  broken  down  ? 
And  the  pioneers,  had  they  slirunk  away  from 
leadership  of  civilization,  and  slunk  homeward  ? 

However  that  miglit  be,  we  were  at  present 
lost.  Ride  thou  on,  Loolowcan,  and  see  if  Some- 
where is  hereabouts;  we  cannot  make  a  night 
of  it  in  Nowhere. 

Loolowcan  dashed  Gubbins  at  darkness ;  it 
opened  and  closed  upon  him.  For  a  moment 
I  could  hear  him  crashing  through  the  wood ; 
then  there  was  silence.     I  was  quite  alone. 

Prying  into  silence  for  sight  or  sound,  I  dis- 
cerned a  rumble,  as  if  of  water  over  a  pebbly 
path.  I  fastened  Klale  and  Antipodes,  as  bea- 
cons of  return,  apd,  laying  hold  of  the  pleasant 
noise  of  flowing,  went  with  it.  Somewhere  was 
actually  in  my  near  neighborhood.  Sound  guided 
me  to  sight.  Suddenly  behind  the  fir-trunks  I 
caught  the  gleam  of  fire.  At  the  same  moment, 
Loolowcan,  cautiously  stealing  back,  encountered 
mo. 

"Hin  pasaiooks  copa  pire,  nika  nanitch-pose 
wake  siks;  many  blanketeers,  by  a  fire,  I  be- 
hold," he  whispered,  "  perhaps  not  friends.*' 

^^Conoway  pasaiooks  siks  copa  pasaiooks;  all 


Cr:::; 


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114 


THE  CANOE  AND   TIIE  SADDLE. 


blankctcers  friends  to  blanketeers,'*  I  boldly  as- 
severated without  regard  to  history ;  "  wake  quash, 

—  ocook  Boston  tilicum,  mamook  hooihut ;  fear 
not,  —  these  are  Boston  folk,  road-makers." 

I  led  tlie  way  confidently  toward  their  beacon- 
fire.  Friends  or  not,  the  pasaiooks  were  better 
company  than  black  tree-trunks.  The  flame,  at 
first  but  a  cloudy  glimmer,  tlien  a  flicker,  now 
gave  broad  and  welcome  light.  It  could  not 
conquer  darkness  with  its  bold  illumination,  for 
darkness  is  large  and  strong ;  but  it  showed  a 
path  out  of  it.  As  we  worked  our  way  slowly 
forward,  the  great  trees  closed  dimly  after  us, 

—  giants  attending  out  of  their  domain  intru- 
ders very  willing  to  be  thus  sped  into  realms 
of  better  omen. 

Beating  through  a  flagellant  thicket,  we  emerged 
upon  the  bank  of  my  rumbling  stream.  Across 
it  a  great  camp-fire  blazed.  A  belt  of  reflected 
crimson  lay  upon  the  clear  water.  Every  ripple 
and  breaker  of  the  hostile  element  tore  at  this 
shadow  of  light,  riving  it  into  rags  and  streamers, 
and  drowning  them  away  down  the  dell.  Still 
the  shattered  girdle  was  there  undestroyed,  lash- 
ing every  coming  gush  of  waves,  and  smiting  the 
stream  as  if  to  open  a  pathway  for  us,  new* 
comers  forth  from  the  darksome  wood. 

A  score  of  men  were  grouped  about  the  fire. 
Several  had  sprung  up  alert  at  the  crashing 


m 


"BOSTON  TILICUM." 


115 


of  our  approach.  Others  reposed  untroubled. 
Others  tended  viands  odoriferous  and  fizzing. 
Others  stirred  the  flame.  Around,  the  forest 
rose,  black  as  Erebus,  and  the  men  moved  in 
the  glare  against  the  gloom  like  pitmen  in  the 
blackest  of  coal-mines. 

I  must  not  dally  on  the  brink,  half  hid  in  the 
obscure  thicket,  lest  the  alert  ones  below  should 
suspect  an  ambush,  and  point  towards  me  open- 
mouthed  rifles  from  their  stack  near  at  hand.  I 
was  enough  out  of  the  woods  to  halloo,  as  I  did 
heartily.  Klale  sprang  forward  at  shout  and 
spur.  Antipodes  obeyed  a  comprehensible  hint 
from  the  whip  of  Loolowcan.  We  dashed  down 
into  the  crimson  pathway,  and  across  among  the 
astonished  road-makers,  —  astonished  at  the  sud- 
den alighting  down  from  Nowhere  of  a  pair  of 
cavaliers,  pasaiook  and  siwash.  What  meant 
this  incursion  of  a  strange  couple  ?  I  became  at 
once  the  centre  of  a  red-flannel-shirted  circle. 
Tlie  recumbents  stood  on  end.  The  cooks  let 
their  frying-pans  bubble  over,  while,  in  response 
to  looks  of  expectation,  I  hung  out  my  handbill, 
and  told  the  society  my  brief  and  simple  tale. 
I  was  not  running  away  from  any  fact  in  my 
history.  A  harmless  person,  asking  no  favors, 
with  plenty  of  pork  and  spongy  biscuit  in  his 
bags,  —  only  going  home  across  the  continent, 
if  may  be,  and  glad,  gentlemen  pioneers,  of  tliis 
unexpected  pleasure. 


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118 


THE  CANOE  AND  THE  SADDLE. 


My  quality  thus  announced,  the  boss  of  the 
road-makers,  without  any  dissenting  voice,  oifcrud 
me  the  freedom  of  their  fireside.  He  called  lor 
the  fatted  pork,  that  I  might  be  entertained  right 
republicanly.  Every  cook  proclaimed  suppor 
ready.  I  followed  my  representative  host  to  the 
windward  side  of  the  greenwood  pyre,  lost  smoko 
wafting  toward  my  eyes  should  compel  me  to 
disfigure  the  banquet  with  lachrymose  counte- 
nance. 

Fronting  the  coals,  and  basking  in  their  em- 
browning beams,  were  certain  diminntivo  tar- 
gets, well  known  to  me  as  defensive  armor  against 
darts  of  cruel  hunger,  —  cakes  of  unleavened 
bread,  hight  flapjacks  in  the  vernacular,  confcct- 
ed  of  flour  and  the  saline  juices  of  fire-ripened 
pork,  and  kneaded  well  with  drops  of  the  living 
stream.  Baked  then  in  frying-pan,  they  stood 
now,  each  nodding  forward,  and  resting  its  edge 
upon  a  planted  twig,  toasting  crustily  till  crunch- 
ing-time  should  come.  And  now  to  every  man 
his  target !  Let  supper  assail  us  !  No  dastaids 
with  trencher  a^e  we.  ...         ^ 

In  such  a  Platonic  republic  as  this,  a  man 
found  big  place  according  to  his  powers.  Tlie 
cooks  were  no  base  scullions ;  they  were  bretli* 
rei^,  who|ii  conscious  ability,  sustained  by  univer- 
sal suffi'age,  had  endowed  with  the  frying-pan. 
Bach  mean's  t£|,rget  flapjack  served  him  for  platter 


I     • 


<*  BOSTON   TILICUM." 


117 


and  odible-tablo.  ColTeo,  also,  for  beverage,  the 
fraternal  cooks  set  before  us  in  infrangible  tin 
pots,  —  coffee  ripened  in  its  red  busk  by  Brazil- 
ian suns  thousands  of  leagues  away,  that  we,  in 
cool  Northern  forests,  Height  fuel  the  restorative 
power  of  its  concentrated  bunsbine,  feeding  vital- 
ity with  fresh  fuel. 

But  for  my  graminivorous  steeds,  gallopers 
all  day  long  in  rough,  unflinching  steeple-chase, 
what  had  nature  done  here  in  the  way  of  prov- 
ender ?  Alas  !  little  or  naught.  This  camp  of 
plenty  for  me  was  a  starvation  camp  for  them. 
Water,  indeed,  was  turned  on  liberally  ;  water 
was  flowing  in  full  sluices  from  the  neighbor 
snows  of  Tacoma ;  but  more  than  water  was 
their  need,  while  they  feverishly  browsed  on  ma- 
ple-leaves, to  imbitter  away  their  appetites.  Only 
a  modicum  of  my  soaked  and  fungous  hard-tack 
could  be  spared  to  each.  They  turned  upon  me 
melancholy,  reproachful  looks ;  they  suffered, 
and  I  could  only  suffer  sympathetically.  Poor 
preparation  this  for  toil  ahead  !  But  fat  prairies 
also  are  ahead  ;  have  patience,  empty  mustangs ! 

My  hosts  were  a  stalwart  gang.  I  had  truly 
divined  them  from  their  cleavage  on  the  hooihut. 
It  was  but  play  to  any  one  of  these  to  whittle 
down  a  cedar  five  feet  in  diameter.  In  the 
morning,  this  compact  knot  of  comrades  would 
explode  into  a  imtraille  of  men  wielding  keen 


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118 


THE  CANOE  AND  THE  SADDLE. 


axes,  and  down  would  go  the  dumb,  stolid  files 
of  the  forest.  Tlieir  talk  was  as  muscular  as 
their  arms.  When  these  laughed,  as  only  men 
fresh  and  hearty  and  .n  the  open  air  can  laugh, 
the  world  became  mainly  grotesque :  it  seemed 
at  once  a  comic  thing  to  live,  —  a  subject  lor 
chuckling,  that  we  were  bipeds,  with  noses,  —  a 
tiling  to  roar  at,  that  we  had  all  met  there  from 
the  wide  world,  to  hobnob  by  a  frolicsome  fire 
with  tin  pots  of  coffee,  and  partake  of  crisped 
bacon  and  toasted  doughboys  in  ridiculous  abun- 
dance. Easy  laughter  infected  the  atmosphere. 
Echoes  ceased  to  be  pensive,  and  became  jocose. 
A  rattling  humor  pervaded  the  forest,  and  Green 
River  rippled  with  noise  of  fantastic  jollity.  Civ- 
ilization and  its  dilettante  diners-out  sneer  when 
Clodpole  at  Dives's  table  doubles  his  soup,  knifes 
his  fish,  tilts  his  plate  into  his  lap,  puts  muscle 
mto  the  crushing  of  his  meringue,  and  tosses  off 
the  warm  beaker  in  his  finger-bowl.  Camps  bj 
Tacoma  sneer  not  at  all,  but  candidly  roar,  at 
parallel  accidents.  Gawky  makes  a  cushion  of 
his  flapjack.  Butterfingers  drops  his  red-hot 
rasher  into  his  bosom,  or  lets  slip  his  mug  of 
coffee  into  his  boot  drying  at  the  fire,  —  a  boot 
henceforth  saccharine.  A  mule,  slipping  his  hal- 
ter, steps  forward  unnoticed,  puts  his  nose  into  I 
the  circle,  and  brays  resonant.  These  are  the 
jocular  boons  of  life,  and  at  these  the  woodsmen 


"BOSTON   TILICUM." 


119 


guffaw  with  lusty  good-nature.  Coarse  and  rudo 
the  jokes  may  be,  but  not  nasty,  like  the  innuen- 
does of  pseudo-refined  cockneys.  If  the  woods- 
men are  guilty  of  uncleanly  wit,  it  differs  from 
the  uncleanly  wit  of  cities  as  the  mud  of  a  road 
differs  from  the  sticky  slime  of  slums. 

It  is  a  stout  sensation  to  meet  masculine,  mus- 
cular men  at  the  brave  point  of  a  penetrating 
Boston  hooihut,  —  men  who  are  mates,  —  men  to 
whom  technical  culture  means  naught,  —  men 
to  whom  myself  am  naught,  unless  I  can  saddle, 
lasso,  cook,  sing,  and  chop ;  unless  I  am  a  man 
of  nerve  and  pluck,  and  a  brother  in  generosity 
and  heartiness.  It  is  restoration  to  play  at  cudg- 
els of  jocoseness  with  a  circle  of  friendly  roughs, 
not  one  of  whom  ever  heard  the  word  bore,  — 
with  pioneers,  who  must  think  and  act,  and 
wrench  their  living  from  the  closed  hand  of 
Nature. 

Men  who  slash  with  axes  in  Oregon  woods 
need  not  be  chary  of  fuel.  They  fling  together 
boles  and  branches  enough  to  keep  any  man's  do- 
mestic Lares  warm  for  a  winter.  And  over  this 
vast  pyre  flame  takes  its  splendid  pleasure  with 
corybantic  dances  and  roaring  paeans  of  victory. 
Fire,  encouraged  to  do  its  work  fully,  leaves  no 
unsightly  grim  corses  on  the  field.  The  glow 
of  embers  wastes  into  the  pallor  of  thin  ashes ; 
and  blinds  may  clear  the  spot,  drifting  away  and 


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120 


THE  CANOE  AND  THE  SADDLE. 


I 


sprinkling  upon  brother  trees  faint,  filmy  relics 
of  their  departed  brethren. 

While  fantastic  flaslies  were  still  leaping  up 
and  illumining  the  black  circuit  of  forest,  every 
man  made  his  bed,  laid  down  his  blankets  in 
starry  bivouac,  and  slept  like  a  mummy.  The 
camp  became  vocal  with  snores ;  nasal  with  snores 
of  various  calibre  was  the  forest.  Some  in  tri- 
umphant tones  announced  that  dreams  of  conflict 
and  victory  were  tlieirs ;  some  sighed  in  dulcet 
strains  that  told  of  lover  dreams ;  some  drew 
shrill  whistles  through  cavernous  straits ;  some 
wheezed  grotesquely,  and  gasped  piteously ;  and 
from  some  who  lay  supine,  snoring  up  at  the 
fretted  roof  of  forest,  sound  gushed  in  spasms, 
leaked  in  snorts,  bubbled  in  puffs,  as  steam 
gushes,  leaks,  and  bubbles  from  yawning  valves 
in  degraded  steamboats.  They  died  away  into 
the  music  of  my  dreams,  a  few  moments  seemed 
to  pass,  and  it  wat  day.  ,^      ^  ..  , 

As  the  erect  lily  droops  when  the  subterranean 
worm  has  taken  a  gnaw  at  its  stalk,  —  as  the 
dahlia  desponds  from  blossom  to  tuber  when  Sep- 
tember frosts  nip  shrewdly,  —  so  at  breakl'ast- 
less  morn,  after  supperless  eve,  drooped  Klale, 
feebly  drooped  Gubbins,  flabbily  drooped  An- 
tipodes. A  sorry  sight !  Starvation,  coming  ou 
the  heels  of  weariness,  was  fast  reducing  my 
stud  to  the  condition  of  the  ghostly  estray  from 


\ 


BOSTON   TILICUM." 


121 


the  exploring  party.  But  prosperity  is  not  many 
leagues  away  from  this  adversity.  Have  cour- 
age, my  trio,  if  such  a  passion  is  possible  to  the 
unfed ! 

If  horses  were  breakfastless,  not  so  was  their 
master.     The  road-makers  had   insisted   that  I 
should  be  their  guest,  partaking  not  only  of  the 
fire,  air,  earth,  and  water  of  their  bivouac,  but 
of  an  honorable  share  at  their  feast.     Hardly  had 
the  snoring  of  the  suorers  ceased,  when  the  fry- 
ing of  the  fryers  began.    In  the  pearly-gray  mists 
of  dawn,  purple  shirts  were  seen  busy  about  the 
kindling   pile  ;   in  the   golden   haze  of  sunrise, 
cooks  brandished   pans  over  fierce  coals  raked 
from  the  red-hot  jaws  of  flame   that  champed 
their  breakfast  of  fir  logs.     Rashers,  doughboys 
not  without  molasses,  and  coffee  —  a  bill  of  fare 
identical  with  last  night's  —  were  our  morning 
meal ;  but  there  was  absolute  cliange  of  circum- 
stance to  prevent  monotony.     We  had  dayliglit 
instead  of  firelight,  freshness  instead  of  fatigue, 
and  every  man  flaunted  a  motto  of  ''  Up  and 
doing !  "  upon  his  oriflamme,  instead  of  trailing 
a  drooping  flag,  inscribed  "  Done  up  !  " 

And  so  adieu,  gentlemen  pioneers,  and  thanks 
for  your  frank,  manly  hospitality  !  Adieu,  "  Bos- 
ton tilicum,"  far  better  types  of  robust  American- 
ism than  some  of  those  selected  as  its  represent- 
atives by  Boston  of  the  Orient,  where  is  too  much 

e 


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122 


THE   CAXOK    AND   THi:   SADDLE. 


worship  of  what  is,  and  not  too  much  uplifting 
of  hopeful  looks  toward  what  ouglit  to  be  ! 

As  I  started,  the  woodsmen  gave  me  a  salute. 
Down,  to  echo  my  shout  of  farewell,  went  a  fir 
of  fifty  years*  standing.  It  cracked  sharp,  like 
the  report  of  a  howitzer,  and  crashed  downward, 
filling  the  woods  with  shattered  branches.  Under 
cover  of  this  first  shot,  I  dashed  at  the  woods.  I 
could  ride  more  boldly  forward  into  savagcness, 
knowing  that  the  front  ranks  of  my  nation  were 
following  close  behind. 


't .' 


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I    . . 


...,...:..       VII.  .        ,;;„,;, 

TACOMA.  I 

'      ■  ■     ■.  ■   ■  i       -     ■- 

-'  ■  :  ;     "-      i' ■■{■:.'  > 

Up  and  down  go  the  fortunes  of  men,  now 
benignant,  now  malignant.  Ante  meridiem  of 
our  lives,  we  are  rising  characters.  Our  full 
noon  comes,  and  we  are  borne  with  plaudits  on 
the  shoulders  of  a  grateful  populace.  Post  me- 
ridiem,  we  are  ostracized,  if  not  more  rudely 
mobbed.  At  twilight,  we  are  perliaps  recalled, 
and  set  on  the  throne  of  Nestor.  ^ 

Such  slow  changes  in  esteem  are  for  men  of 
some  import  and  of  settled  character.  Loolowcan 
sufifered  under  a  more  rapidly  fluctuating  public 
opinion.  At  the  camp  of  the  road-makers,  he  had 
passed  through  a  period  of  neglect,  —  almost  of 
ignominy.  My  hosts  had  prejudices  against  red- 
skins ;  they  treated  the  son  of  Owhhigh  with 
no  consideration  ;  and  he  became  depressed  and 
slinking  in  manner  under  the  influence  of  their 
ostracism.  No  sooner  had  we  disappeared  from 
the  range  of  Boston  eyes  than  Loolowcan  re- 
sumed his  leadership  and  his  control.  I  was  very 
secondary  now,  and  followed  him  humbly  enough 


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THE  CANOE  AND  THE  SADDLE. 


Up  the  heights  we  had  reached.  Here  were  all 
the  old  difficulties  increased,  because  they  were 
no  longer  met  on  a  level.  We  were  to  climb  tlie 
main  ridge,  —  the  mountain  of  La  Tete,  —  aban- 
doning  the  valley,  assaultitig  the  summits.  And 
liere,  as  Owhhigh  had  prophesied  in  his  harangue 
at  Nisqually,  the  horse's  mane  must  be  firmly 
grasped  by  the  climber.  Poor,  panting,  weary 
hags  !  may  it  be  t^-ue,  the  promise  of  Loolowcaii, 
that  not  far  away  is  abundant  fodder !  But 
where  can  aught,  save  firs  with  ostrich  digestion, 
grow  on  these  rough,  forest-clad  shoulders  ? 

So  I  clambered  on  till  near  noon. 

I  had  been  following  thus  for  many  hours  the 
blind  path,  harsh,  darksome,  and  utterly  lonely, 
urging  on  with  no  outlook,  encountering  no  land- 
mark, ^—  at  last,  as  I  stormed  a  ragged  crest,  gain- 
ing a  height  that  overtopped  the  firs,  and,  halting 
there  for  panting  moments,  glanced  to  see  if  I 
had  achieved  mastery  as  well  as  position,  —  as  I 
looked  somewhat  wearily  and  drearily  across  the 
solemn  surges  of  forest,  suddenly  above  their 
sombre  gi^en  appeared  Tacoma.  Large  and 
neighbor  it  stood,  so  near  that  every  jewel  of  its 
snow-fields  seemed  to  send  me  a  separate  ray; 
yet  not  so  near  but  that  I  could  with  one  look 
take  in  its  whole  image,  from  clear-cut  edge  to 
edge.  ■''"  "•■■■'  -   ^  v\  ,  .  . 

All  around  it  the  dark  evergreens  roee  like » 


7AC0MA. 


125 


ruff ;  above  them  the  mountain  splendors  swelled 
statelier  for  the  contrast.  Sunlight  of  noon  was 
so  refulgent  upon  the  crown,  and  lay  so  thick 
and  dazzling  in  nooks  and  chasms,  that  tl  e  eye 
souglit  repose  of  gentler  lights,  and  found  it  in 
shadowed  nooks  and  clefts,  where,  sunlight  en- 
tering not,  delicate  mist,  an  emanation  from  the 
blue  sky,  had  fallen,  and  lay  sheltered  and  trem- 
ulous, a  mild  substitute  for  the  stronger  glory. 
The  blue  haze  so  wavered  and  trembled  into  sun- 
liglit,  and  sunbeams  shot  glimmering  over  snowy 
brinks  so  like  a  constant  avalanche,  that  I  might 
doubt  whether  this  movement  and  waver  and 
glimmer,  this  blending  of  mist  with  noontide 
flame,  were  not  a  drifting  smoke  and  cloud  of 
yellow  sulphurous  vapor  floating  over  some  slowly 
chilling  crater  far  down  in  the  red  crevices. 

But  if  the  giant  fires  had  ever  burned  under 
that  cold  summit,  they  had  long  since  gone  out. 
The  dome  that  swelled  up  passionately  had 
crusted  over  and  then  fallen  in  upon  itself,  not 
vigorous  enough  with  internal  life  to  bear  up  in 
smooth  proportion.  Where  it  broke  into  ruin 
was  no  doubt  a  desolate  waste,  stern,  craggy,  and 
riven,  but  such  drear  results  of  Titanic  convul- 
sion the  gentle  snows  hid  from  view.        '    •      • 

No  foot  of  man  had  ever  trampled  those  pure 
snows.  It  was  a  virginal  mountain,  distant  from 
the  possibility  of  human  approach  and  human 


J' 

m 


1 
I 


-'••*•- 


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HI, 


I 


I 
1 
I 

1 


I 

m 

I 


126 


THE  CANOE  AND  THE  SADDLE. 


I 


mquisitivcness  as  a  marble  goddess  is  from  hu 
man  loves.  Yet  there  was  nothing  unsympa- 
thetic in  its  isolation,  or  despotic  in  its  distant 
majesty.  But  this  serene  loftiness  was  no  homo 
for  any  deity  of  those  that  men  create.  Only  the 
thought  of  eternal  peace  arose  from  tliis  heaven- 
upbearing  monument  like  incense,  and,  overflow- 
ing, filled  the  world  with  deep  and  holy  calm. 
.  Wlierever  the  mountain  turned  its  cheek  to- 
ward the  sun,  many  fair  and  smiling  dimples  ap- 
peared, and  along  soft  curves  of  snow,  lines  of 
shadow  drew  tracery,  fair  as  the  blue  veins  on  a 
child's  temple.  Without  the  infinite  sweetness 
and  charm  of  this  kindly  changefulness  of  form 
and  color,  there  might  have  been  oppressive  awo 
in  the  presence  of  this  transcendent  glory  against 
the  solemn  blue  of  noon.  Grace  played  over  the 
surface  of  majesty,  as  a  drift  of  rose-leaves  wavers 
in  the  air  before  a  summer  shower,  or  as  a  wreath 
of  rosy  mist  flits  before  the  grandeur  of  a  storm. 
Loveliness  was  sprinkled  like  a  boon  of  blossoms 
upon  sublimity.       i  ^,  ^  .     -^^ 

Our  lives  forever  demand  and  need  visual  im- 
ages that  can  be  symbols  to  us  of  the  grandeur 
or  the  sweetness  of  repose.  There  are  some 
faces  that  arise  dreamy  in  our  memories,  and 
look  us  into  calmness  in  our  frantic  moods. 
Fair  and  happy  is  a  life  that  need  not  call  upon 
its  vague  memorial  dreams  for  such  attuning  in- 


TACOMA. 


127 


fliience,  but  can  turn  to  a  present  reality,  and  ask 
tranquillity  at  the  shrine  of  a  household  goddess. 
The  noble  works  of  nature,  and  mountains  most 
of  all, 

*'  have  power  to  make 
Our  noisy  years  seem  moments  iu  the  being  |; 

Of  the  eternal  silence.'*  l- 

And,  studying  the  light  and  the  majesty  of 
Tacoma,  there  passed  from  it  and  entered  into 
my  being,  to  dwell  there  evermore  by  the  side  of 
many  such,  a  thought  and  an  image  of  solemn 
beauty,  which  I  could  thenceforth  evoke  when- 
ever in  the  world  I  must  have  peace  or  die.  For 
such  emotion  years  of  pilgrimage  were  worthily 
spent.  If  mortal  can  gain  the  thoughts  of  im- 
mortality, is  not  his  earthly  destiny  achieved  ? 
For,  when  we  liave  so  studied  the  visible  poem, 
and  so  fixed  it  deep  in  the  very  substance  of  our 
minds,  tliere  is  forever  with  us  not  merely  a  per- 
petual possession  of  delight,  but  a  watchful  mon- 
itor that  will  not  let  our  thoughts  be  long  unfit 
tor  the  pure  companionship  of  beauty.  For 
whenever  a  man  is  false  to  the  light  that  is  in 
him,  and  accepts  meaner  joys,  or  chooses  the 
easy  indulgence  that  meaner  passions  give,  then 
every  fair  lar.dscape  in  all  his  horizon  dims,  and 
all  its  grandeurs  fade  and  dwindle  away,  the 
glory  vanishes,  and  he  looks,  like  one  lost,  upon 
his  world,  late  so  lovely  and  sinless. 


«r:'-^ 


* 


•* 
« 

I 

* 

I 

t. 
I 


4 


I 


128 


THE  CANOK  AND  THE  SADDLE. 


Ik 

« 


While  I  was  studying  Tacoma,  and  learning  ita 
fine  lesson,  it  in  turn  might  contemplate  its  own 
image  far  away  on  the  waters  of  Whulge,  where 
streams  from  its  own  snows,  gushing  seaward  to 
buflfet  in  the  boundless  deep,  might  rejoice  in  a 
last  look  at  their  parent  ere  they  swept  out  of 
Puyallop  Bay.  Other  large  privilege  of  view  it 
had.  It  could  see  what  I  could  not,  —  Tacoma 
the  Less,  Mt.  Adams,  meritorious  but  clumsy ; 
it  could  reflect  sunbeams  gracefully  across  a 
breadth  of  forest  to  St.  Helen's,  the  vestal  vir- 
gin, who  still  kept  her  flame  kindled,  and  proved 
her  watchfulness  ever  and  anon.  CoLiinuing 
its  panoramic  studies,  Tacoma  could  trace  the 
chasm  of  the  Columbia  by  silver  circles  here  and 
there,  —  could  see  every  peak,  chimney,  or  un- 
opened vent,  from  Kulshan  to  Shasta  Butte. 
The  Blue  Mountains  eastward  were  within  its 
scope,  and  westward  the  faint-biue  levels  of  the 
Pacific.  Another  region,  worthy  of  any  moun- 
tain's beholding,  Tacoma  sees,  somewhat  vague 
and  dim  in  distance  :  it  sees  the  sweet  Arcadian 
valley  of  the  Willamette,  charming  with  meadow, 
park,  and  grove.  In  no  older  world  where  men 
have,  in  all  their  happiest  moods,  recreated  them- 
selves for  generations  in  taming  earth  to  orderly 
beauty,  have  they  achieved  a  fairer  garden  than 
Natux'e's  simple  labor  of  love  has  made  there, 
giving  to  rough  pioneers  the  blessings  and  the 


TACOMA. 


i29 


possible  education  of  refined  and  finished  land- 
scape, in  the  presence  of  landscape  strong,  sav- 
age, and  majestic. 

All  this  Tacoma  beholds,  as  I  can  but  briefly 
hint ;  and  as  one  who  is  a  seer  himself  becomes 
a  tower  of  light  and  illumination  to  tlie  world,  so 
Tacoma,  so  every  brother  seer  of  his  among  the 
lofty  snow-peaks,  stands  to  educate,  by  his  inevi- 
table presence,  every  dweller  thereabouts.  Our 
race  has  never  yet  come  into  contact  with  great 
mountains  as  companions  of  daily  life,  nor  felt 
that  daily  development  of  the  finer  and  more 
comprehensive  senses  which  these  signal  facts 
of  nature  compel.  That  is  an  influence  of  the 
future.  The  Oregon  people,  in  a  climate  where 
being  is  bliss,  —  where  every  breath  is  a  draught 
of  vivid  life,  —  these  Oregon  people,  carrying  to 
a  new  and  grander  New  England  of  the  West  a 
fuller  growth  of  the  American  Idea,  under  whose 
teaching  the  man  of  lowest  ambitions  must  still 
have  some  little  indestructible  respect  for  him- 
self, and  the  brute  of  most  tyrannical  aspirations 
some  little  respect  for  others  ;  carrying  there  a 
religion  two  centuries  farther  on  than  the  crude 
and  cruel  Hebraism  of  the  Puritans;  carrying 
the  civilization  of  history  where  it  will  not  suf- 
fer by  the  example  of  Europe,  —  with  such  ma- 
terial, that  Western  society,  when  it  crystallizes, 
^U  elaborate  new  systems  of  thought  and  life. 

6«  1 


t'-n- 


IKI 


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« 

*.'.... 

,*' 

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1 

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ii: 

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a«iu.» 


X30 


THE  CANOE  AND  THE  SADDLE. 


I 

z 

m 


It  is  un philosophical  to  suppose  that  a  strong 
race,  developing  under  tlie  best,  largest,  and 
calmest  conditions  of  nature,  will  not  achieve  a 
destiny. 

Up  to  Tacoma,  or  into  some  such  solitude  of 
nature,  imaginative  men  must  go,  as  Moses  went 
up  to  Sinai,  tliat  the  divine  aillatus  may  stir 
within  them.  The  siwashes  appreciate,  accord- 
ing to  their  capacity,  the  inspiration  of  lonely 
grandeur,  and  go  upon  the  mountains,  starvin*,' 
and  alone,  that  they  may  become  seers,  enchant- 
ers, magicians,  diviners, —  what  in  conventional 
lingo  is  called  "  big  medicine."  For  though  the 
Indians  here  have  not  peopled  these  thrones  of 
their  world  with  tlie  creatures  of  an  anthropo- 
morphic mythology,  they  yet  deem  them  the 
abode  of  Tamanoiis.  Tamanoiis  is  a  vague  and 
half-personified  type  of  the  unknown,  of  the  mys- 
terious forces  of  nature  ;  and  there  is  also  an  in- 
definite multitude  of  undefined  emanations,  eacli 
one  a  tamanoiis  with  a  small  t,  which  are  busy 
and  impish  in  complicating  existence,  or  equally 
active  and  spritely  in  unravelling  it.  Each  In- 
dian of  this  region  patronizes  his  own  personal 
tamanoiis,  as  men  of  the  more  eastern  tribes  keep 
a  private  manitto,  and  as  Socrates  kept  a  daimon. 
To  supply  this  want,  Tamanoiis  with  a  big  T  un- 
dergoes an  avatar,  and  incarnates  himself  into  a 
salmon,  a  beaver,  a  clam,  or  into  some  inanimate 


TACOMA. 


131 


object,  s\icb  as  a  caiioc,  a  paddle,  a  fir-trco,  a 
flint,  or  into  honic  eleinciitiil  essence,  as  fire, 
water,  sun,  mist ;  and  tuniiinolis  tliiis  Individ* 
uiilizecl  becomes  the  **  guide,  philosopher,  and 
IViL'nd"  of  every  siwash,  conscious  tiiut  (»ther- 
wise  he  nii^iht  stray  und  be  lo^t  in  the  unknown 
rutdnjs  of  Tunianoiis. 

lliimitchou,  a  (Vowzy  ancient  of  tlic  ?quidly- 
aniish,  told  to  Dr.  Tolinie  and  nie,  at  Nistpiiilly, 
a  lejiend  of  Tamanoiis  and  'J'aconiu,  whicli,  being 
iiitLMproted,  runs  as  lOllovvs  :  —  •      . 

IIamitcuou's  Lixend. 

'*  Avarice,  0  IJoston  tyee,"  cpioth  Ilamitchou, 
studying  me  with  dusky  eyes,  '*  is  a  mighty  pas- 
sion. Now,  be  it  known  unto  thee  that  we  In- 
dians anciently  used  not  metals  nor  the  money 
of  you  blanketeers.  Our  circulating  medium  was 
sliL'lls,  —  wampum  you  would  name  it.  Ot*  all 
wampum,  the  most  precious  is  Iliaqua.  Iliaqua 
c(/ines  from  the  far  north.  It  is  a  small,  perfo- 
rutt'd  shell,  not  unlike  a  vovy  opaque  quill  tooth- 
pick, tapering  from  the  middle,  and  cut  square 
at  both  ends.  Wc  string  it  in  many  strands, 
and  hang  it  around  the  neck  of  one  we  love,  — 
iiainuly,  each  man  his  own  neck.  We  also  buy 
with  it  what  our  hearts  desire,  lie  who  has  most 
Iliaqua  is  best  and  wisest  and  happiest  of  all  the 
uurtUcni  ilaida  and  of  all  the  people  of  Wliulge. 


'-:«#. 

»•.. 

R 

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t 

1 

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t. 

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4'' 

Uifc 

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<* 
m- 


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1 
I 

m 


132 


THE  CAXOE  AND  THE  SADDLE. 


The  mountain  horsemen  value  it ;  and  braves  of 
the  terrible  Blackfeet  have  been  known,  in  the 
good  old  days,  to  come  over  and  offer  a  horse  or 
a  wife  for  a  bunch  of  fifty  liiaqua. 

"  Now,  once  upon  a  time  there  dwelt  where 
this  fort  of  Nisqually  now  stands  a  wise  old 
man  of  the  Squallyamish.  He  was  a  great  fish- 
erman and  a  great  hunter ;  and  the  wiser  he 
grew,  much  the  wiser  he  thought  himself.  When 
he  had  grown  very  wise,  he  used  to  stay  apart 
from  every  other  siwash.  Companionable  salmon- 
boilings  round  a  common  pot  had  no  charms 
for  him.  '  Feasting  was  wasteful,'  he  said,  '  and 
revellers  would  come  to  want.'  And  when  they 
verified  his  prophecy,  and  were  full  of  hunger 
and  empty  of  salmon,  he  came  out  of  his  her- 
mitage, and  had  salmon  to  sell. 

*'  Hiaqua  was  the  pay  he  always  demanded ; 
and  as  he  was  a  very  wise  old  man,  and  knew 
all  the  tideways  of  Whulge,  and  all  the  enticing 
ripples  and  placid  spots  of  repose  in  every  river 
where  fish  might  dash  or  delay,  he  was  sure 
to  have  salmon  when  others  wanted,  and  thus 
bagged  largely  of  its  precious  equivalent,  hiaqua. 

*'  Not  only  a  mighty  fisher  was  the  sage,  but  a 
mighty  hunter,  and  elk,  the  greatest  animal  of 
the  woods,  was  the  game  he  loved.  Well  had  he 
studied  every  trail  where  elk  leave  the  print  of 
theh'  hoofs,  and  where,  tossing  their  heads,  they 


TACOMA. 


133 


bend  the  tender  twigs.  Well  had  he  searched 
through  the  broad  forest,  and  found  the  long- 
haired prairies  where  elk  feed  luxuriously ;  and 
there,  from  behind  palisade  fir-trees,  he  had 
launched  the  fatal  arrow.  Sometimes,  also,  he 
lay  beside  a  pool  of  sweetest  water,  revealed  to 
him  by  gemmy  reflections  of  sunshine  gleaming 
through  the  woods,  until  at  noon  the  elk  came 
down,  to  find  death  awaiting  him  as  he  stooped 
and  drank.  Or  beside  the  same  fountain  the  old 
man  watched  at  night,  drowsily  starting  at  every 
crackling  branch,  until,  when  the  moon  was  high, 
and  her  illumination  declared  the  pearly  water, 
elk  dashed  forth  incautious  into  the  glade,  and 
met  their  midnight  destiny. 

"  Elk-meat,  too,  he  sold  to  his  tribe.  This 
brought  him  pelf,  but,  alas  for  his  greed,  the 
pelf  came  slowly.  Waters  and  woods  were  rich 
ill  game.  All  Jie  Squallyamish  were  hunters 
and  fishers,  though  none  so  skilled  as  he.  They 
were  rarely  in  absolute  want,  and,  when  they 
came  to  him  for  supplies,  they  were  far  too  poor 
in  hiaqua.  ^        :  • 

"  So  the  old  man  thought  deeply,  and  com- 
muned with  his  wisdom,  and,  w^hile  he  waited  for 
fish  or  beast,  he  took  advice  within  himself  from 
his  demon,  —  he  talked  with  Tamanoiis.  And 
always  the  question  was, '  How  may  I  put  kiaqua 
in  my  purse?'        ,,  . 


'MCPi 


*«• 

1. 

f 

■a 

A 


■ir 


m 
I 


I 
1 
I 

m 

I 
I 


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m     ) 

i      I 


134 


THE  CANOE  AND  THE  SADDLE. 


m 
m 


"  Tamanoiis  never  revealed  to  him  that  far  to 
tlie  iiortli,  beyond  the  waters  of  Whulge,  are 
tribes  with  their  under  lip  pierced  witli  a  fish- 
bone, among  wliom  liiaqua  is  f>lenty  as  f-almon- 
bcrries  arc  in  the  woods  what  time  in  mid-snm- 
mer  sahnon  fin  it  along  the  reaches  of  Wiinlge. 

*'  ]>ut  the  more  Tamanoiis  did  not  reveal  to 
him  tiiese  mysteries  of  natnre,  the  more  he  kept 
dreamily  prying  into  his  own  mind,  endeavoring 
to  devise  some  scheme  by  wiiich  he  might  discuver 
a  trcasn re-trove  of  the  beloved  shell.  His  life 
seemed  wasted  in  the  patient,  frugal  industry, 
which  only  brought  slow,  meagre  gains.  He 
wanted  the  splendid  elation  of  vast  wealth  and 
the  excitement  of  sudden  wealth.  His  own  pe- 
culiar tamanoiis  was  the  elk.  Elk  was  also  his 
totem,  the  cognizance  of  liis  freemasonry  with 
those  of  his  own  family,  and  their  family  friends 
in  other  tril)es.  Elk,  therefore,  were  every  way 
identified  with  his  life  ;  and  he  hunted  them 
fartiier  and  farther  up  through  the  forests  on  the 
flanks  of  Tacoma,  hoping  that  some  day  his  tar 
manoiis  would  speak  in  the  dying  groan  of  one 
of  them,  and  gasp  out  the  secret  of  the  mines  of 

hiaqua,  his  heart's  desire.  ^ ^         '  ■''    • 

'  *•  Tacoma  was  so  white  and  glittering,  that  it 
seemed  to  stare  at  him  very  terribly  and  mock- 
ingly, and  to  know  his  shameful  avarice,  and 
huw  it  led  him  to  take  from  starving  women  their 


cherish 
give  th( 
elk-mea 
niean, 
tlieir  g] 
nature's 
and  sun 
heaven. 
"  i\ev( 
wise  old 
along   th 
wealth, 
snows  01  n 
of  late  s 
Jis^closine: 
f^upernatu 
l>egan  to 
" '  Are 
the  Strang 
of  a  demc 
where  my 
" '  I  dar 

"He  die 

a  reply. 

^'it  all  the 
echoes.     T 
ci-a.vhed  foj 
tJ'e  forest, 
iuiit  among 


TACOMA. 


135 


r  to 
are 
lisli. 
non- 
aim- 
ilge. 
al  to 
kept 

jring 

eovcr 

s  lite 

Libtry, 
He 

li  and 

'U  pe- 
so his 
with 
lends 

f  way 
lliein 
ju  the 
\is  tar 
)f  one 
ics  of 

Ithat  it 
liuook- 
and 
their 


chcris^hed  lip  and  nose  jewels  of  hiaqiia,  and  to 
^rive  them  in  return  only  tough  scraps  of  dried 
elk-meat  and  salmon.  When  men  are  shabby, 
mean,  and  grasping,  they  feel  reproached  for 
their  grovelling  lives  by  the  unearthlinci^s  of 
nature's  beautiful  objects,  and  they  hate  flowers, 
and  sunsets,  mountains,  and  the  quiet  stars  of 
heaven. 

"  Nevertheless,"  continued  Hamitcliou,  "  tliis 
wis^e  old  fool  of  my  legend  went  on  stalking  elk 
along  the  sides  of  Tacoma,  ever  dreaming  of 
wealth.  And  at  last,  as  he  was  hunting  near  the 
snows  one  day,  one  very  clear  and  beautiful  day 
of  late  summer,  wlien  sunliglU  was  magically 
disclosing  far  distances,  and  making  all  nature 
supernaturally  visible  and  proximate,  Tamanous 
began  to  work  in  the  soul  of  tlie  miser. 

" '  Are  you  brave,*  whispered  Tamanoiis  in 
tlie  strange,  ringing,  duu,  silent  thunder-tonea 
of  a  demon  voice.  '  Dare  you  go  to  the  caves 
where  my  treasures  are  liid  ?  '  :    - 

"'I  dare,'  said  the  miser.     -•       v 

"He  did  not  know  that  his  lips  had  syllabled 
a  reply.  He  did  not  even  hear  his  own  words. 
But  all  the  place  had  become  suddenly  vocal  with 
echoes.  The  great  rock  against  which  1  o  leaned 
crashed  forth,  '  I  dare.'  Then  all  along  tiu*ough 
the  forest,  dashing  from  tree  to  tree  and  h)st  at 
lobt   among    the    murmuring    of   breeze-sliakeu 


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138 


THE   CANOE   AND   TIIE   SADDLE. 


5    I 


leaves,  went  careering  his  answer,  taken  up  and 
repeated  scornfully,  '  I  dare.'  And  after  a  si- 
lence, while  the  daring  one  trembled  and  would 
gladly  have  ventured  to  shout,  for  the  companion- 
ship of  his  own  voice,  there  came  across  from  tlio 
vast  snow  wall  of  Tacoma  a  tone  like  the  mui- 
fled,  threatening  plunge  of  an  avalanche  into  a 
chasm,  '  I  dare.' 

"  '  Yoii  dare,'  said  Tamanoiis,  enveloping  hira 
with  a  dread  sense  of  an  unseen,  supernatural 
presence  ;  '  you  pray  for  wealth  of  hiaqua. 
Listen  ! ' 

"  This  injunction  was  hardly  needed  ;  the 
miser  was  listening  with  dull  eyes  kindled  and 
starting.  He  was  listening  with  every  rusty  hair 
separating  from  its  unkempt  mattedness,  and 
outstanding  upright,  a  caricature  of  an  aureole. 

"'Lister,'  said  Tamanoiis,  in  the  noonday 
hush.  And  then  Tamanoiis  vouchsafed  at  last 
the  great  secret  of  the  hiaqua  mines,  while  in 
terror  near  to  death  the  miser  heard,  and  everv 
word  of  guidance  toward  the  hidden  treasure 
of  the  mountains  seared  itself  into  his  soul  iu- 
efifaceably. 

"  Silence  came  again  more  terrible  now  than 
the  voice  of  Tamanoiis,  —  silence  under  tlie 
shadow  of  the  great  cliff,  —  silence  deepening 
down  the  forest  vistas,  —  silence  filling  the  void 
up  to  the  snows  of  Tacoma.     All  life  and  motion 


"T' 


TACOMA. 


137 


seemed  paralyzed.  At  last  Skai-ki,  the  Blue- Jay, 
the  wise  bird,  foe  to  magic,  sang  cheerily  over- 
head. Her  song  seemed  to  refresh  again  the 
honest  laws  of  nature.  The  buzz  of  life  stirred 
everywhere  again,  and  tlie  inspired  miser  roso 
and  liastened  home  to  prepare  for  his  work. 

*'  When  Tamanoiis  has  put  a  great  thought  in 
a  man's  brain,  has  whispered  him  a  great  discov- 
ery within  his  power,  or  hinted  at  a  great  crime, 
that  spiteful  demon  does  not  likewise  suggest 
the  means  of  accomplishment. 

"  The  miser,  therefore,  must  call  upon  his  own 
skill  to  devise  proper  tools,  and  upon  his  own  judg- 
ment to  fix  upon  the  most  fitting  time  for  carry- 
ing out  his  quest.  Sending  his  squaw  out  to  the 
kamas  prairie,  under  pretence  that  now  was  the 
season  for  her  to  gather  their  winter  store  of  that 
sickish-sweet  esculent  root,  and  that  she  might, 
not  have  her  squaw's  curiosity  aroused  by  seeing 
him  at  strange  work,  he  began  his  preparations. 
He  took  a  pair  of  enormous  elk-horns,  and  fash- 
ioned from  each  horn  a  two-pronged  pick  or 
spade,  by  removing  all  the  antlers  except  the  two 
topmost.  He  packed  a  good  supply  of  kippered 
salmon,  and  filled  his  pouch  with  kinni  kinnick 
for  smoking  in  his  black  stone  pipe.  With  his 
bow  and  arrows  and  his  two  elk-horn  picks 
wrapped  in  buckskin  hung  at  his  back,  he  start- 
ed just  before  sunset,  as  if  for  a  long  hunt.     His 


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138 


THE  CANOE  AND  THE  SADDLE. 


■:.1 
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old,  faithful,  maltreated,  blanketlcss,  vermilion- 
less  squaw,  returning  with  baskets  full  of  kamas, 
saw  him  disappearing  moodily  down  the  trail. 

"  All  that  night,  all  the  day  following,  he  moved 
on  noiselessly  by  paths  he  knew.  He  hastened 
on,  unnoticing  outward  objects,  as  one  with  a 
controlling  purpose  hastens.  Elk  and  deer, 
bounding  through  the  trees,  passed  him,  but  ho 
tarried  not.  At  night  he  camped  just  below  the 
snows  of  Tacoma.  He  was  weary,  weary,  and 
chill  night-airs  blowing  down  from  the  summit 
almost  froze  him.  He  dared  not  take  his  (ire- 
sticks,  and,  placing  one  perpendicular  upon  a 
little  hollow  on  the  flat  side  of  the  other,  twirl 
the  upright  stick  rapidly  between  his  palms 
until  tlie  charred  spot  kindled  and  lighted  his 
*  tipsoo,'  his  dry,  tindery  wool  of  inner  bark. 
A  fire,  gleaming  high  upon  the  mountain-side, 
might  be  a  beacon  to  draw  thither  any  night- 
wandering  savage  to  watch  in  ambush,  and  leani 
the  path  toward  the  mines  of  hiaqna.  So  he 
drowsed  chilly  and  fireless,  awakened  often  by 
dread  sounds  of  crashing  and  rumbling  among 
the  chasms  of  Tacoma.  He  desponded  bitterly, 
almost  ready  to  abandon  his  quest,  almost  doubt- 
ii  g  whether  he  had  in  truth  received  a  revelation, 
\^  bother  his  interview  with  Tamanoiis  had  not 
been  a  dream,  and  finally  whether  all  the  hiaqua 
iu  the  world  was  worth  this  toil  and  anxiety. 


TACOMA. 


139 


Fortunate  is  the  sage  who  at  such  a  point  turns 
back  and  buys  his  experience  without  worse 
befalling  him. 

"  Past  midnight  he  suddenly  was  startled  from 
his  drowse,  and  sat  bolt  upright  in  terror.  A 
light !  Was  there  another  searcher  in  the  forest, 
and  a  bolder  than  he?  That  flame  just  glimmer- 
ing over  the  tree-tops,  was  it  a  camp-fire  of  friend 
or  foe  ?  Had  Tamanoiis  been  revealing  to  an- 
other the  great  secret?  No,  smiled  the  miser, 
his  eyes  fairly  open,  and  discovering  that  the 
new  light  was  the  moon.  He  had  been  waiting 
for  her  illumination  on  paths  heretofore  untrod- 
den by  mortal.  She  did  not  show  her  full, 
round,  jolly  face,  but  turned  it  askance  as  if  she 
hardly  liked  to  be  implicated  in  this  night's  trans- 
actions. ■  ' 

"  However,  it  was  light  he  wanted,  not  sympa- 
thy, and  he  started  up  at  once  to  climb  over  the 
dim  snows.  The  surface  was  packed  by  the 
night's  frost,  and  liis  moccasins  gave  him  firm 
hold  ;  yet  he  travelled  but  slowly,  and  could  not 
always  save  himself  from  a  glissade  backwards, 
and  a  bruise  upon  some  projecting  knob  or  crag. 
Sometimes,  upright  fronts  of  ice  diverted  him  for 
long  circuits,  or  a  broken  wall  of  cold  clitT  arose, 
which  he  must  surmount  painfully.  Once  op 
twice  he  stuck  fast  in  a  crevice,  and  hardly  drew 
himself  out  by  placing  his  bundle  of  picks  across 


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140 


THE  CANOE  AND  THE  SADDLE. 


*j. 


g: 


mi 


the  crack.  As  he  plodded  and  floundered  thus 
deviously  and  toilsomely  upward,  at  last  the 
wasted  moon  gan  pale  overhead,  and  under  foot 
the  snow  grew  rosy  with  coming  dawn.  The 
dim  world  about  the  mountain's  base  displayed 
something  of  its  vast  detail.  He  could  see,  more 
positively  tlian  by  moonliglit,  the  far-reaching  ar- 
teries of  mist  marking  the  organism  of  Whulge 
beneath  ;  and  what  had  been  but  a  black  cliaos 
now  resolved  itself  into  the  Alpine  forest  whence 
he  had  conie. 

"  But  he  troubled  himself  little  with  staring 
about ;  up  he  looked,  for  the  summit  was  at 
hand.  To  win  that  summit  was  wellnigh  the 
attainment  of  his  hopes,  if  Tamanoiis  were  true  ; 
and  that,  with  the  flush  of  morning  ardor  upon 
him,  he  could  not  doubt.  There,  in  a  spot  Tama- 
noiis had  revealed  to  him,  was  hiaqua,— hiaqiia 
that  should  make  him  the  richest  and  greatest  of 
all  the  Squallyamish. 

"The  chill  before  sunrise  was  upon  him  as 
he  reached  the  last  curve  of  the  dome.  Sunrise 
and  he  struck  the  summit  together.  Together 
sunrise  and  he  looked  over  the  glacis.  They  saw 
within  a  great  hollow  all  covered  with  the  whitest 
of  snow,  save  at  the  centre,  where  a  black  lake 
lay  deep  in  a  well  of  purple  rock.       :;     ^" 

"  At  the  eastern  end  of  this  lake  was  a  small, 
irregular  plain  of  snow,  marked  by  three  stonea 


TACOMA 


141 


like  monuments.  Toward  tLese  the  miser  sprang 
rapidly,  with  full  sunshine  streaming  after  him 
over  the  snows. 

*'  The  first  monument  he  examined  with  keen 
looks.  It  was  tall  as  a  giant  man,  and  its  top 
was  fashioned  into  the  grotesque  likeness  of  a 
salmon's  head.  He  turned  from  this  to  inspect 
the  seoond.  It  was  of  similar  height,  but  bore 
at  its  apex  an  object  in  shape  like  the  regular 
flame  of  a  torch.  As  he  approached,  he  pres- 
ently discovered  that  this  was  an  image  of  the 
kamas-bulb  in  stone.  These  two  semblances  of 
prime  necessities  of  Indian  life  delayed  him  but 
an  instant,  and  he  hastened  on  to  the  third  mon- 
ument, which  stood  apart  on  a  perfect  level. 
The  third  stone  was  capped  by  something  ho 
almost  feared  to  behold,  lest  it  should  prove 
other  than  his  hopes.  Every  word  of  TamanoUs 
had  thus  far  proved  veritable  ;  but  might  there 
not  be  a  bitter  deceit  at  the  last?  The  miser 
trembled.      *      .  . 

"  Yes,  Tamanoiis  was  trustworthy.  The  third 
monument  was  as  the  old  man  anticipated.  It 
was  a  stone  elk's-head,  such  as  it  appears  in  ear- 
liest summer,  when  the  antlers  are  sprouting  lus- 
tily under  their  rough  jacket  of  velvet. 

"  You  remember,  Boston  tyee,"  continued 
Hamitchou,  "  that  Elk  was  the  old  man's  tamar 
noUs,  the  incarnation  for  him  of  thd  uniyersa) 


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142 


THE  CAXOE  AND  THE  SADDLE. 


mi 

m 


Tamanous.  He  therefore  was  right  joyous  al 
this  good  omen  of  protection ;  and  his  lieart 
grew  big  and  swollen  with  hope,  as  the  hliick 
salmon-berry  swells  in  a  swamp  in  June,  llo 
threw  down  his  *  ikta ' ;  every  impediment  lie 
laid  down  upon  the  snow  ;  and,  unwrapping  liis 
two  picks  of  elk-horn,  he  took  the  stoutest,  and 
began  to  dig  in  the  frozen  snow  at  the  foot  of  the 
elk-head  monument. 

"  No  sooner  had  he  struck  the  first  blow  tliau 
he  heard  behind  him  a  sudden  puff,  such  as  a 
seal  makes  when  it  comes  to  the  surface  to 
breathe.  Turning  round  much  startled,  he  saw 
a  huge  otter  just  claml)ering  up  over  the  edge 
of  the  lake.  The  otter  paused,  and  struck  on 
the  snow  with  his  tail,  whereupon  another  otter 
and  another  appeared,  until,  following  their  lead- 
er in  slow  and  solemn  file,  were  twelve  other 
otters,  marching  toward  the  miser.  The  twehe 
approached,  and  drew  up  in  a  circle  around  him. 
Each  was  twice  as  large  as  any  otter  ever  seen. 
Their  chief  was  four  times  as  large  as  the  most 
gigantic  otter  ever  seen  in  the  regions  of  Whiilge, 
and  certainly  was  as  great  as  a  seal.  When  the 
twelve  were  arranged,  their  leader  skipped  to  the 
top  of  the  elk-head  stone,  and  sat  there  between 
the  horns.  Then  the  whole  thirteen  gave  a 
mighty  puflf  in  chorus.  i 

*'  The  hunter  of  hiaqua  was  for  a  moment 


TACOMA. 


143 


abashed  at  his  uninvited  ring  of  spectators.  But 
he  had  seen  otter  before,  and  bagged  them. 
These  he  could  not  waste  time  to  shoot,  even 
if  a  phalanx  so  numerous  were  not  foimidablo. 
Besides,  they  might  be  tamanoUs.  lie  took  to 
his  pick,  and  began  digging  stoutly. 

"  He  soon  made  way  in  tlie  snow,  and  came  to 
solid  rock  beneath.  At  every  thirteenth  stroke 
of  his  pick,  the  fugleman  otter  tapped  witii  liis 
tail  on  the  monument.  Then  the  choir  of  lesser 
otters  tapped  together  witli  theirs  on  the  snow. 
Tliis  caudal  action  produced  a  dull,  muffled 
sound,  as  if  there  were  a  vast  hollow  below. 

"  Digging  with  all  his  force,  by  and  by  the 
seeker  for  treasure  began  to  tire,  and  laid  down 
his  elk-horn  spade  to  wipe  the  sweat  from  his 
brow.  Straightway  the  fugleman  otter  turned, 
and,  swinging  his  tail,  gave  the  weary  man  a 
mighty  thump  on  the  shoulder  ;  and  the  whole 
band,  imitating,  turned,  and,  backing  inward, 
smote  him  with  centripetal  tails,  until  he  re- 
sumed his  labors,  much  bruised.  : 

"  The  rock  lay  first  in  plates,  then  in  scales. 
These  it  was  easy  to  remove.  Presently,  how- 
ever, as  the  miser  pried  carelessly  at  a  krger 
mass,  he  broke  his  elkhorn  tool.  Fugleman 
otter  leaped  down,  and,  seizing  the  supplemental 
pick  between  his  teeth,  mouthed  it  over  to  the 
digger.    Then  the  amphibious  monster  took  in 


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144 


THE  CAXOE  AND  THE  SADDLE. 


4ti 


the  same  manner  the  broken  pick,  and  bore  it 
round  the  circle  of  his  suite,  who  inspected  it 
gravely  with  puffs. 

"  These  strange,  magical  proceedings  discon- 
certed and  somewhat  bafTled  the  miser ;  but  he 
plucked  up  heart,  for  the  prize  was  priceless,  and 
Worked  on  more  cautwusly  with  his  second  pick. 
At  last  its  blows  and  the  regular  thumps  of  the 
otters'  tails  called  forth  a  sound  hoUower  and 
hollo wer.  His  circle  of  spectators  narrowed  so 
that  he  could  feel  their  panting  breath  as  they 
bent  curiously  over  the  little  pit  he  had  dug. 

"  The  crisis  was  evidently  at  hand. 

*'  He  lifted  each  scale  of  rock  more  delicately. 
Fhially  he  raised  a  scale  so  thin  that  it  cracked 
into  flakes  as  he  turned  it  over.  Beneath  was  a 
large  square  cavity. 

"  It  was  filled  to  the  brim  with  hiaqua. 

"  He  was  a  millionnaire.  ,,     ..    ^ 

"  The  otters  recognized  him  as  the  favorite  of 
Taraanoiis,  and  retired  to  a  respectful  distance. 

"  For  some  moments  he  gazed  on  his  treasure, 
taking  thought  of  his  future  proud  grandeur 
among  the  dwellers  by  Whulge.  He  plunged 
his  arm  deep  as  he  could  go  ;  there  was  still 
nothing  but  the  precious  shells.  He  smiled  to 
himself  in  triumph  ;  he  had  wrung  the  secret 
from  Tamanoiis.  Then,  as  he  withdrew  his  arm, 
the  rattle  of  the  hiaqua  recalled  him  to  tlie  pres- 


TACOMA. 


145 


)rc  it 
,cd  it 

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lis  arm, 
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ent. Ho  saw  that  noon  was  long  past,  and  ho 
must  proceed  to  rcduco  his  property  to  possession. 

"  Tho  hiaqua  was  strung  upon  long,  stout  sin- 
ews of  elk,  in  bunches  of  fifty  shells  on  each  side. 
Four  of  these  he  wound  about  his  waist ;  three 
ho  hung  across  each  shoulder;  five  he  took  in 
each  hand; — twenty  strings  of  pure  white  hia- 
qua, every  shell  large,  smooth,  unbroken,  beau- 
tiful. He  could  carry  no  more  ;  hardly  even 
with  this  could  he  stagger  along.  He  put  down 
his  burden  for  a  moment,  while  he  covered  up 
the  seemingly  untouched  wealth  of  the  deposit 
carefully  with  the  scale  stones,  and  brushed  snow 
over  the  whole. 

"  The  miser  never  dreamed  of  gratitude,  never 
thought  to  hang  a  string  from  the  buried  treasure 
about  the  salmon  and  kamas  tamanoiis  stones, 
and  two  strings  around  the  elk's  head  ;  no,  all 
must  be  his  own,  all  he  could  carry  now,  and  the 
rest  for  the  future. 

"  He  turned,  and  began  his  climb  toward  the 
crater's  edge.  At  once  the  otters,  with  a  mighty 
putf  in  concert,  took  up  their  line  of  procession, 
and,  plunging  into  the  black  lake,  began  to  beat 
the  water  with  their  tails. 

"  The  miser  could  hear  the  sound  of  splashing 

water  as  he  struggled  upward  through  the  snow, 

now  melted  and  yielding.     It  was  a  long  hour 

of  harsh   toil  and  much  backsliding  before  he 

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146 


THE  CANOE  AND  THE  SADDLE. 


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reached  the  rim,  and  turned  to  take  one  more 
view  of  this  valley  of  good  fortune. 

"  As  he  looked,  a  thick  mist  began  to  rise  from 
the  lake  centre,  where  the  otters  were  splashing. 
Under  the  mist  grew  a  cylinder  of  black  cloud, 
utterly  hiding  the  water.  '  '   ' 

"  Terrible  are  storms  in  the  mountains  ;  but 
in  tliis  looming  mass  was  a  terror  more  dread 
than  any  hurricane  of  ruin  ever  bore  within  its 
wild  vorte:  .0,  Tamanoiis  was  in  that  black 
cylinder,  and  as  it  strode  forward,  chasing  in  tlie 
very  path  of  the  miser,  he  shuddered,  for  liis 
wealth  and  liis  life  were  in  danger. 

"  However,  it  miglit  be  but  a  common  storm. 
Sunlight  was  bright  as  ever  overhead  in  heaven, 
and  all  the  lovely  world  below  lay  dreamily 
fair,  in  that  afternoon  of  summer,  at  the  feet 
of  the  rich  man,  who  now  was  hastening  to  l)e 
its  king.  He  stepped  from  the  crater  edge  and 
began  his  descent. 

"  Instantly  the  storm  overtook  him.  He  was 
thrown  down  by  its  first  assault,  flung  over  a 
rough  bank  of  iciness,  and  lay  at  the  foot  torn 
and  bleeding,  but  clinging  still  to  his  precious 
burden.  Each  hand  still  held  its  five  strings  of 
hiaqua.  In  each  hand  he  bore  a  nation's  ran| 
som.  He  staggered  to  his  feet  against  the  blast. 
Utter  night  was  around  him, —  night  as  if  day- 1 
light  had  forever  perished,  had  never  come  into 


TACOMA. 


147 


e  more 

se  from 
lasliinp. 
k.  cloud, 


m  storm. 

fi  heaven, 

dreamily 

the  feet 

ing  to  i)e 

.edge  and 


being  from  chaos.  The  roaring  of  the  storm  had 
also  deafened  and  bewildered  him  with  its  wild 
uproar. 

"  Present  in  every  crash  and  thunder  of  the 
gale  was  a  growing  undertone,  which  the  miser 
well  knew  to  be  the  voice  of  Tamanoiis.  A 
deadly  shuddering  shook  him.  Heretofore  that 
potent  Unseen  had  been  his  friend  and  guide  ; 
there  had  been  awe,  but  no  terror,  hi  his  words. 
Now  the  voice  of  Tamanoiis  was  inarticulate,  but 
the  miser  could  divine  in  that  sound  an  unspeak- 
able threat  of  wrath  and  vengeance.  Floating 
upon  this  undertone  were  sharper  tamanoiis 
voices,  shouting  and  screaming  always  sncor- 
ingly,  *  Ha  ha,  hiaqua !  —  ha,  ha,  ha !  * 

"  Whenever  the  miser  essayed  to  move  and 
continue  his  descent,  a  whirlwind  caught  him, 
and  with  much  ado  tossed  him  hither  and  tliither, 
leaving  him  at  last  flung  and  imprisoned  in  a 
pinching  crevice,  or  buried  to  tlie  eyes  iu  a  snow- 
drift, or  bedded  upside  down  on  a  shaggy  boul- 
der, or  gnawed  by  lacerating  lava  jaws.  Sharp 
torture  the  old  man  was  encounteriiig,  but  ho 
held  fast  to  his  hiaqua. 

"The  blackness  grew  ever  deeper  and  more 
crowded  with  perdition  ;  the  din  more  impish, 
demoniac,  and  devilish  ;  the  laughter  more  ap- 
palling ;  and  th  3  miser  more  and  more  exhausted 
with  vain  bufieting.      He  determined  to  propi- 


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118 


THE  CANOE  AND  THE  SADDLE. 


1 

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if 

He* 


tiate  exasperated  Tamanolis  with  a  sacrifice.  He 
threw  into  the  black  cylinder  storm  his  left-hand- 
ful, five  strings  of  precious  hiaqua." 

"  Somewhat  long-winded  is  thy  legend,  Hamit- 
chou,  (Treat  Medicine-Man  of  the  Squally  ami  sh," 
quoth  I.  "  Why  did  n't  the  old  fool  drop  his 
wampum,  —  shell  out,  as  one  might  say,  —  and 
make  tracks  ?" 

"  Well,  well !  "  continued  Hamitchou  ;  "  when 
tlie  miser  had  thrown  away  his  first  handful  of 
liiaqua,  there  was  a  momentary  lull  in  elemental 
war,  and  he  heard  the  otters  puffing  around  him 
invisible.  Then  the  storm  renewed,  blacker, 
louder,  harsher,  crueller  than  before,  and  over 
the  dread  undertone  of  the  voice  of  Tamanoiis, 
tamanoiis  voices  again  screamed,  '  Ha,  ha,  ha, 
liiaqua ! '  and  it  seemed  as  if  tamanoiis  hands, 
or  the  paws  of  the  demon  otters,  clutched  at  the 
miser's  right-handful  and  tore  at  his  shoulder 
and  waist  belts. 

"  So,  while  darkness  and  tempest  still  buffeted 
the  hapless  old  man,  and  thrust  him  away  from 
his  path,  and  while  the  roaring  was  wickeder 
than  the  roars  of  tens  and  tens  of  tens  of  beai-s 
when  ahungered  they  pounce  upon  a  plain  of 
kamas,  gradually  wounded  and  terrified,  he 
flung  away  string  after  string  of  hiaqua,  gaining 
never  any  notice  of  such  sacrifice,  except  an 
instant's  lull  of  the  c/clon  and  a  puff  from  the 
in  visible  otters. 


TACOMA. 


149 


"  The  last  string  he  clung  to  long,  and  before 
he  threw  it  to  be  caught  and  whirled  after  its 
fellows,  he  tore  off  a  single  bunch  of  fifty  shells. 
But  upon  this,  too,  the  storm  laid  its  clutches. 
In  the  final  desperate  struggle  the  old  man  was 
wounded  so  sternly  that,  when  he  had  given  up 
his  last  relic  of  the  mighty  treasure,  when  he 
had  thrown  into  the  formless  chaos,  instinct  with 
Tamanoiis,  his  last  propitiatory  offering,  he  sank 
and  became  insensible. 

"  It  seemed  a  long  slumber  to  him,  but  at  last 
he  awoke.  The  jagged  moon  was  just  paling 
overhead,  and  he  heard  Skai-ki,  the  Blue-Jay, 
foe  to  magic,  singing  welcome  to  sunrise.  It 
was  the  v  -ry  spot  whence  he  started  at  morning. 

"  He  ^  'xwgry,  and  felt  for  his  bag  of  kamas 
and  pouch  o.  amoke-leaves.  There,  indeed,  by  liis 
side  were  the  elk-sinew  strings  of  the  bag,  and 
the  black  stone  pipe-bowl,  —  but  no  bag,  no  ka- 
mas, no  kinni-kinnik.  The  whole  spot  was  thick 
witli  kamas  plants,  strangely  out  of  place  on  the 
mountain-side,  and  overhead  grew  a  large  arbu- 
tus-tree, with  glistening  leaves,  ripe  for  smoking. 
The  old  man  found  his  liard-wood  fire-sticks  safe 
under  the  herbage,  and  soon  twirled  a  light,  and, 
nurturing  it  in  dry  grass,  kindled  a  cheery  fire. 
He  plucked  up  kamas,  set  it  to  roast,  and  laid  a 
store  of  the  arbutus-leaves  to  dry  on  a  flat  stone. 

"  After  he  had  made  a  hearty  breakfast  oa 


(:■. 


rs* 


J.... 

1 

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1 

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& 


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ii)»<- 


150 


THE  CANOE  AND  THE  SADDLE. 


mi- 


Wk 


the  chestnut-like  kamas-bulbs,  and,  smoking  the 
thoughtful  pipe,  was  reflecting  on  the  events  of 
yesterday,  lie  became  aware  of  an  odd  change  in 
his  condition.  He  was  not  bruised  and  wounded 
from  head  to  foot,  as  he  expected,  but  very  stiff 
only,  and  as  he  stirred,  liis  joints  creaked  like  tho 
creak  of  a  lazy  paddle  upon  the  rim  of  a  canoe. 
Skai-ki,  the  Blue-Jay,  was  singularly  familiar 
with  him,  hopping  from  her  perch  in  the  arbutus, 
and  alighting  on  his  head.  As  he  put  his  hand 
to  dislodge  her,  he  touched  his  scratching-stick 
of  bone,  and  attempted  to  pass  it,  as  usual, 
through  his  hair.  The  hair  was  matted  and 
interlaced  into  a  network  reaching  fully  two  ells 
down  his  back.  'Tamanoiis,'  thouglit  the  old 
man. 

"  Chiefly  he  was  conscious  of  a  mental  change. 
He  was  calm  and  content.  Hiaqua  and  wealth 
seemed  to  have  lost  their  charms  for  him.  Ta- 
coma,  sliining  like  gold  and  silver  and  precious 
stones  of  gayest  lustre,  seemed  a  benign  comrade 
and  friend.  All  the  outer  world  was  chcerl'ul 
and  satisfying.  He  thought  he  had  never  awak- 
ened to  a  fresher  morning.  He  was  a  young 
man  again,  except  for  that  unusual  stiffiiess  and 
unmelodious  creaking  in  his  joints.  He  felt  no 
apprehension  of  any  presence  of  a  deputy  tania- 
noiis,  sent  by  Tamanoiis  to  do  malignities  upon 
him  in  the  lonely  wood.     Great  Nature  had  a 


TACOMA. 


151 


kindly  aspect,  and  made  its  divinity  perceived 
only  by  the  sweet  notes  of  birds  and  the  hum  of 
forest  life,  and  by  a  joy  that  clothed  his  being 
And  now  lie  found  in  his  heart  a  sympathy  for 
man,  and  a  longing  to  meet  his  old  acquaintances 
down  by  the  shores  of  Whulge.  '  /  v.  •• 

"  He  rose,  and  started  on  the  downward  way, 
smiling,  and  sometimes  laughing  heartily  at  the 
strange  croaking,  moaning,  cracking,  and  rasping 
of  his  joints.  But  soon  motion  set  the  lubricat- 
ing valves  at  work,  and  the  sockets  grew  slippery 
again.  He  marched  rapidly,  hastening  out  of 
loneliness  into  society.  The  world  of  wood, 
glade,  and  stream  seemed  to  him  strangely  al- 
tered. Old  colossal  trees,  firs  behind  which  he 
had  hidden  when  on  the  hunt,  cedars  under 
whose  drooping  shade  he  had  lurked,  were  down, 
and  lay  athwart  his  path,  transformed  into  im- 
mense mossy  mounds,  like  barrows  of  giants, 
over  which  he  must  clamber  warily,  lest  he  sink 
and  be  half  stifled  in  the  dust  of  rotten  wood. 
Had  Tamanoiis  been  widely  at  work  in  that 
eventful  night?  —  or  had  tlie  spiritual  change 
tlie  old  man  felt  affected  his  views  of  the  outer 
world?  -     ; 

''Travelling  downward,  he  advanced  rapidly, 
and  just  before  sunset  came  to  the  prairies  where 
Ills  lodge  should  be.  Everything  had  seemed  to 
bim  so  totally  altered,  that  he  tarried  a  moment 


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162 


THE  CANOE  AND  THE  SADDLE. 


4 


m* 


in  the  edge  of  the  woods  to  take  an  observation 
before  approaching  his  homo.  There  was  a 
lodge,  indeed,  in  the  old  spot,  but  a  newer  and 
far  handsomer  one  than  he  had  left  on  the  fourth 
evening  before.  ' 

*'  A  very  decrepit  old  squaw,  ablaze  with  ver- 
milion and  decked  with  countless  strings  of  hia- 
qua  and  costly  beads,  was  seated  on  the  ground 
near  the  door,  tending  a  kettle  of  salmon,  wlioso 
blue  and  fragrant  steam  mingled  pleasantly 
with  the  golden  haze  of  sunset.  She  resembled 
his  own  squaw  in  countenance,  as  an  ancient 
smoked  salmon  is  like  a  newly-dried  salmon. 
If  she  was  indeed  his  spouse,  she  was  many  years 
older  than  when  he  saw  her  last,  and  much 
better  dressed  than  the  respectable  lady  had  ever 
been  during  his  miserly  days. 

"  He  drew  near  quietly.  The  bedizened  dame 
was  crooning  a  chant,  very  dolorous,  —  like 
this : 

*  My  old  man  has  gone,  gone,  gone,  — 
My  old  man  to  Tacoma  has  gone. 
To  hunt  the  elk,  he  went  long  ago.  ' 

When  will  he  come  down,  down,  down, 
Down  to  the  salmon-pot  and  me?  *  ,    .  ' 

'  He  has  come  from  Tacoma  down,  down,  down, — 
Down  to  the  salmon-pot  and  thee,'      . 

shouted  the  reformed  miser,  rushing  forward 
to  supper  and  his  faithful  wife." 

"  And  how  did  Penelope  explain  the  mystery  ?" 
I  asked. 


^^ 


TACOMA. 


153 


"If  you  mean  the  old  lady,"  replied  Hamit- 
chou,  "  she  was  my  grandmother,  and  I  'd  thank 
you  not  to  call  names.  She  told  my  grandfather 
that  he  had  been  gone  many  years ;  —  she  could 
not  tell  how  many,  having  dropped  her  tally-stick 
in  the  fire  by  accident  that  very  day.  She  also 
toM  him  how,  in  despite  of  the  entreaties  of 
many  a  chief  who  knew  ho'-  economic  virtues, 
and  prayed  her  to  become  mistress  of  his  house- 
hold, she  had  remained  constant  to  the  Absent, 
and  forever  kept  the  hopeful  salmon-pot  boiling 
for  his  return.  She  had  distracted  her  mind 
from  the  bitterness  of  sorrow  by  trading  in  ka- 
mas  and  magic  herbs,  and  had  thus  acquired  a 
genteel  competence.  The  excellent  dame  then 
exhibited  with  great  complacency  her  gains, 
most  of  which  she  had  put  in  the  portable  and 
secure  form  of  personal  ornament,  making  her- 
self a  resplendent  magazine  of  valuable  frippery. 

"  Little  cared  the  repentant  sage  for  such 
things.  But  he  was  rejoiced  to  be  again  at  homo 
and  at  peace,  and  near  his  own  early  gains  of 
hiaqua  and  treasure,  buried  in  a  place  of  se- 
curity. These,  however,  he  no  longer  over- 
esteemed  a  1  hoarded.  He  imparted  whatever 
he  possessed,  material  treasures  or  stores  of  wis- 
dom and  experience,  freely  to  all  the  land. 
Every  dweller  by  Whulge  came  to  him  for  advice 
how  to  chase  the  elk,  how  to  troll  or  spear  the 

7* 


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■•»*• 
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a 

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154 


THE  CANOE  AND  THE  SADDLE. 


3 


i 

i 


salmon,  and  how  to  propitiate  Tamanoiis.  Ho 
became  tlie  Great  Medicine  Man  of  the  siwashes, 
a  benefactor  to  his  tribe  and  his  race. 

"  Within  a  year  after  lie  came  down  from  liis 
long  nap  on  the  side  of  Tacoma,  a  child,  my 
father,  was  born  to  him.  The  sage  lived  many 
years,  beloved  and  revered,  and  on  his  death- 
bed, long  before  the  Boston  tilicum  or  any  blau- 
keteers  were  seen  in  the  regions  of  Whulgc,  lie 
told  this  history  to  my  father,  as  a  lesson  and  a 
warning.  My  father,  dying,  told  it  to  me.  But 
I,  alas !  have  no  son ;  I  grow  old,  and  lest  tliis 
wisdom  perish  from  the  earth,  and  Tamanoiis  be 
again  obliged  to  interpose  against  avarice,  I  tell 
the  tale  to  thee,  0  Boston  tyee.  Mayest  thou 
and  thy  nation  not  disdain  this  lesson  of  an 
earlier  age,  but  profit  by  it  and  be  wise." 

So  far  Hamitchou  recounted  his  legend  with- 
out the  palisades  of  Fort  Nisqually,  and  motion- 
ing, in  expressive  pantomime,  at  the  close,  that 
he  was  dry  with  big  talk,  and  would  gladly  wet 
his  whistle. 


VIII. 


80WEE    HOUSE.  — LOOLOWCAN. 

I  HAD  not  long,  that  noon  of  August,  from  tlio 
top  of  La  Tctc,  to  study  Tacoma,  scene  of  Ila- 
mitchou's  wild  Icirend.  Humanity  forbade  dalli- 
ance. Wliile  I  fed  my  soul  witli  suljlimity,  Kialo 
and  liis  comrades  were  wretched  witli  starvation. 
But  the  summit  of  tlie  pass  is  near.  A  few 
struggles  more,  Klale  the  plucky,  and  thy  empty 
sides  sliiill  echo  less  drum-like.  Up  stoutly,  my 
steeds;  up  a  steep  but  little  less  than  perpen- 
dicular, paw  over  these  last  trunks  of  the  barri- 
cades in  our  trail,  and  ye  have  won ! 

So  it  was.  Tlic  angle  of  our  ascent  suddenly 
broke  down  from  ninety  to  fifteen,  then  to  noth- 
ing. We  had  reached  the  plateau.  Here  were 
the  first  prairies.  Nibble  in  these,  my  nags,  for 
a  few  refreshiug  moments,  and  then  on  to  super- 
lative diimers  in  lovelier  spots  just  beyond. 

Let  no  one,  exaggerating  the  joys  of  campaign- 
iiijr,  with  Horace's  "Militia  potior  est,"  deem 
that  there  is  no  compensating  pang  among  them. 
Is  it  a  pleasant  thing,  0  traveller  only  in  dreams, 


t 

S" 

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■.  Z't 

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156 


THE  CANOE  AND  THE  SADDLE. 


It 

41 


i 


envier  of  the  voyager  in  reality,  to  urge  tired, 
reluctant,  and  unfed  mustangs  up  a  mountain 
pass,  even  for  their  own  good  ?  In  puch  a  cai:e 
a  man,  the  humancst  and  gentlest,  must  adopt 
tlie  manners  of  a  brute.  He  must  ply  the  whip, 
and  that  cruelly ;  otherwise,  no  go.  At  first,  as 
he  smites,  he  winces,  for  he  has  struck  his  own 
sensibilities ;  by  and  by  he  hardens  himself,  and 
thrashes  without  a  tremor.  When  the  cortege 
arrives  at  an  edible  prairie,  gastronomic  satisfac- 
tion will  put  Lethean  freshness  in  the  battered 
hide  of  every  horse.  l 

We  presently  turned  just  aside  from  the  trail 
into  an  episode  of  beautiful  prairie,  one  of  a 
succession  along  the  plateau  at  the  crest  of  tlie 
range.  At  this  height  of  about  five  thousand 
feet,  the  snows  remain  until  June.  In  this  fair, 
oval,  forest-circled  prairie  of  my  nooning,  the 
grass  was  long  and  succulent,  as  if  it  grew  in 
the  bed  of  a  drained  lake.  The  horses,  un- 
dressed, were  allowed  to  plunge  and  wallow  in 
the  deep  herbage.  Only  horse  lieads  soon  could 
be  seen,  moving  about  like  their  brother  hippo- 
potami, swimming  in  sedges. 

To  me  it  was  luxury  enough  not  to  be  a 
whip  for  a  time.  Over  and  above  this,  I  had  the 
charm  of  a  quiet  nooning  on  a  bank  of  emerald 
turf,  by  a  spring,  at  the  edge  of  a  clump  of 
evergreens.    I  took  my  luncheon  of  cold  salt  pork 


and  d< 
I  calh 
salutii] 
kissed 
^n*st  li( 
^gle  1 
tliirstir 

• 

bubblir 
my  vis£ 


SOWEE   HOUSE.  —  LOOLOWCAN. 


157 


and  doughy  biscuit  by  a  well  of  brightest  water. 
I  called  in  no  proxy  of  tin  cup  to  aid  me  in 
saluting  this  sparkling  creature,  but  stooped  and 
kissed  the  spring.  When  I  had  rendered  my 
^irst  homage  thus  to  the  goddess  of  the  fountain, 
iEgle  herself,  perhaps,  fairest  of  Naiads,  I  drank 
tliirstily  of  the  medium  in  which  she  dwelt.  A 
bubbling  dash  of  water  leaped  up  and  splashed 
my  visage  as  I  withdrew.  Why  so,  sweet  foun- 
tain, which  I  may  name  Hippocrene,  since  hoofs 
of  Klale  have  caused  me  thy  discovery  ?  Is  this 
a  rebuff?  If  there  ever  was  lover  who  little  mer- 
ited such  treatment  it  is  I.  "  Not  so,  appreciative 
stranger,"  came  up  in  other  bubbling  gushes  the 
responsive  voice  of  Nature  through  sweet  vibra- 
tions of  the  melodious  fount.  "Never  a  Nymph 
of  mine  will  thrust  thee  back.  This  sudden  leap 
of  water  was  a  movement  of  sympathy,  and  a  gen- 
tle emotion  of  hospitality.  The  Naiad  there  was 
offering  thee  her  treasure  liberally,  and  saying 
that,  drink  as  thou  wilt,  I,  her  mother  Nature, 
have  commanded  my  winds  and  sun  to  distil 
thee  fresh  supplies,  and  my  craggy  crevices  are 
filtering  it  in  the  store-houses,  that  it  may  be 
offered  to  e\ery  welcome  guest,  pure  and  cool  as 
airs  of  dawn.  Stoop  down,"  continued  the  voice, 
"thirsty  wayfarer,  and  kiss  again  my  daughter 
of  the  fountain,  nor  be  abashed  if  she  meets  thee 
half-way.  She  knows  that  a  true  lover  will  never 
scorn  his  love's  delicate  advances." 


f 


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158 


THE  CANOK  AND  THE  SADDLE. 


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In  response  to  sucli  invitation,  and  tlio  more 
for  iny  thirsty  slices  of  pork,  1  lapped  the  aerutud 
tip()lu  in  its  goblet,  whoso  stem  reaches  deep  into 
the  bubble  laboratories.  1  lap[)ed,  —  an  excel- 
l(Mit  tost  of  pluck  in  the  days  of  Gideon  son  of 
Barak  ;  —  and  why  ?  For  n):iny  reasons,  but 
among  them  for  this;  —  he  who  lying  prone  can 
with  stout  muscu)ar  gullet  swallow  water,  will  1)0 
also  able  to  swallow  back  into  position  his  heart, 
when  in  moments  of  tremor  it  leaps  into  his 
throat. 

When  I  had  lapped  plcntcously,  I  lay  and  let 
the  breeze-shaken  shadows  smooth  me  into  smil- 
ing mood,  while  my  sympathies  overflowed  to  en- 
joy witii  my  horses  their  dinner.  They  fed  like 
school-boys  home  for  Thanksgiving,  in  haste  lest 
the  present  banquet,  too  good  to  be  true,  prove 
Barmecide.  A  feast  of  colossal  grasses  placed 
itself  at  the  lips  of  the  breakfastless  stud.  Tlicy 
champed  as  their  nature  was;  —  Klalo  like  a 
hungry  gentleman,  —  Gubbins  like  a  hungry 
clodhopper,  —  Antipodes  like  a  lubberly  oaf. 
They  were  laying  in,  according  to  the  Hudson's 
Bay  Company's  rule,  supply  at  this  meal  for  five 
days  ;  without  such  [)ower,  neither  man  nor  horse 
is  fit  to  tramp  the  Nortliwest. 

1  lay  on  the  beautiful  verdant  bank,  plucking 
n3w  dextrously  and  now  sinistrously  of  straw- 
berries,  that    summer,    climbing   late    to   these 


SOWEE   HOrSE. 


LOOLOWCAN. 


150 


Miowy  heights,  had  just  ripoued.  Medical  men 
L'oininund  us  to  swallow  twice  a  day  one  bitter 
pill  confectioned  of  all  disgust.  Nature  doses  us, 
by  no  moans  against  our  will,  with  many  sweet 
boluses  of  delight,  berries  compacted  of  acid- 
iilatcd,  sugary  spicincss.  Nature,  tenderest  of 
leeches,  —  no  bolus  of  hers  is  plcasanter  medica- 
ment than  her  ruddy  strawberries.  She  shaped 
tbeni  like  Mini(3-balls,  that  they  iniglit  traverse 
unerringly  to  the  cell  of  most  dulcc'  dii(<^t:tion. 
Over  their  glistening  surface  she  po|5[)eio4  ?.).IL3 
golden  dots  to  act  as  ol)sta<^les  lest  th<  y  sb.oiild 
glide  too  fleetly  over  the  surfaces  o^  ;;<,stc,  uid 
also  to  gently  rasp  them  into  keener  sen.  itlviMiess, 
Mongers  of  pestled  poisons  may  {>in«cli  their  ,  -Hs 
in  malodorous  mortars,  roll  them  in  floury  |/iliifis, 
pack  them  in  pink  boxes,  and  send  tivna  forth 
to  distress  a  world  of  patients :  —  but  Nature, 
who  if  she  even  feels  one's  pulse  doo«t  it  '.>y  a 
gentle  pressure  of  atmosphere,  —  Nature,  know- 
ing that  her  children  in  their  travels  always  need 
lively  tonics,  tells  wind,  sun,  and  dew,  vicrvitors 
of  hers,  clean  and  fmo  of  touch,  to  manipulato 
gay  strawberries,  and  dispose  theai  'ittrai  tis'*i(y 
on  fair  green  terraces,  shaded  at  vM?r«jhing  noon. 
Of  these  lovely  fabrics  of  i>i*hf  pulpiness,  no 
limit  to  the  dose,  if  t\\r  invalid  does  as  Nature 
intended,  and  plu/iks  for  himself,  with  fingers 
rosy  and  fragrant.    I  plucked  of  them,  as  far  as  I 


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160 


THE  CANOE  AND  THE  SADDLE. 


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could  reach  on  either  side  of  me,  and  then  lay 
drowsily  reposing  on  my  couch  at  the  summit  of 
the  Cascade  Pass,  under  the  shade  of  a  fir,  wliicli, 
outstanding  from  the  forest,  had  changed  its 
columnar  structure  into  a  pyramidal,  and  hud 
branches  all  along  its  stalwart  trunk,  instead  of 
a  mere  tuft  at  the  top. 

In  this  shade  I  should  have  known  the  tree 
which  gave  it,  without  looking  up,  —  not  because 
the  sharp  little  spicular  leaves  of  the  fir,  min- 
iatures of  that  sword  Rome  used  to  open  the 
world,  its  oyster,  would  drop  and  plunge  them- 
selves into  my  eyes,  or  would  insert  their  blades 
down  my  back  and  scarify,  —  but  because  there 
is  an  influence  and  sentiment  in  umbrages,  and 
under  every  tree  its  own  atmosphere.  Elms 
refine  and  have  a  graceful  elegiac  effect  upon 
those  they  shelter.  Oaks  drop  robustness.  Mi- 
mosas will  presently  make  a  sensitive-plant  of 
him  who  hangs  his  hammock  beneath  their 
shade.  Cocoa-palms  will  infect  him  with  such 
tropical  indolence,  that  he  will  not  stir  until 
frowzy  monkeys  climb  the  tree  and  pelt  him 
away  to  the  next  one.  The  shade  of  pine-trees, 
as  any  one  can  prove  by  a  journey  in  Maine, 
makes  those  who  undergo  it  wiry,  keen,  trench- 
ant, inexhaustible,  and  tough. 

Wlien  I  had  felt  the  influence  of  my  fir  shelter, 
on  the  edge  of  the  wayside  prairie,  long  enoiigli, 


SOWEE  HOUSE.  —  LOOLOWCAN. 


161 


I  became  of  course  keen  as  a  blade.  I  sprang 
up  and  called  to  Loolowcan,  in  a  resinous  voice, 
"  Mamook  cliaco  cuitan  ;  make  come  horse." 

Loolowcan,  in  more  ge.iial  mood  tlian  I  hal 
known  him,  drove  the  trio  out  from  the  lon^ 
l^rass.  They  came  forth  not  without  backward 
hankerings,  but  far  happier  quadrupeds  than 
when  they  climbed  the  pass  at  noon.  It  was  a 
pleasure  now  to  compress  with  the  knees  Klale, 
transformed  from  an  empty  barrel  witli  protu- 
berant hoops,  into  a  full  and  elastic  cylinder, 
smooth  as  the  boiler  of  a  locomotive. 

"  Loolowcan,  my  lad,  my  experienced  guide, 
cur  nesika  moosum  ;  where  sleep  we  ?  "  said  I. 

"Copa  Sowee  house, — kicuaH.  Sowee,  oly- 
man  tyee,  —  memloose.  Sia-a-a-h  mitlite  ;  —  At 
So  wee's  camp  — below.  Sowee,  oldman  chief,  — 
dead.  It  is  far,  far  away,"  replied  the  son  of 
Owlihigh. 

Far  is  near,  distance  is  annihilated  this  bril- 
Hant  day  of  summer,  for  us  recreated  with 
llippocrene,  strawberries,  shade  of  fir  and  tall 
t^iiow-fed  grass.  Down  the  mountain  range 
seems  nothing  after  our  long  laborious  up  ;  "  the 
half  is  more  than  the  whole."  "Lead  on, 
Loolowcan,  intelligent  brave,  toward  the  resi 
denco  of  the  late  Sowee." 

More  fair  prairies  linked  tliemselves  along  the 
trail.    Prom  these  alpine  pastures  the  future  will 


•"ft 


4/ 


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162 


THE  CANOE  AND  THE  SADDLE. 


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draw  butter  and  cheese,  pasturing  migratory 
cattle  there,  when  summer  dries  the  scanty  grass 
upon  the  macadamized  prairies  of  Whulge.  It  is 
well  to  remind  ourselves  sometimes  that  the 
world  is  not  wholly  squatted  over.  The  pla- 
teau soon  began  to  ebb  toward  the  downward 
slope.  Descent  was  like  ascent,  a  way  shaggy 
and  abrupt.  Again  the  Boston  hooihut  in- 
truded. My  friends  the  woodsmen  had  con- 
structed an  elaborate  inclined  plane  of  very 
knobby  corduroy  down  the  steepest  steep.  Klale 
sniffed  at  this  novel  road,  and  turned  up  his  nose 
at  it.  He  was  competent  to  protect  that  fea- 
ture against  all  the  perils  of  stumble  and  fall 
on  trails  he  had  been  educated  to  travel,  but 
dreaded  grinding  it  on  the  rough  bark  of  this 
unaccustomed  highway.  Slow-footed  oxen,  lean- 
ing inward  and  sustaining  each  other  like  two 
roysterers  unsteady  after  wassail,  might  clumsily 
toil  up  such  a  road  as  this,  hauling  up  stuut, 
white-cotton-roofed  wagons,  filled  with  the  babies 
and  Lares  of  emigrants;  but  quick-footed  ponies, 
descending  and  carrying  light  loads  of  a  wild 
Indian  and  an  untamed  blanketeer,  chose  rather 
to  whisk  along  the  aboriginal  paths. 

As  we  came  to  the  irregular  terraces  after  the 
first  |)itch,  and  scampered  on  gayly,  I  by  and  hy 
heard  a  welcome  whiz,  and  a  dusky  groiiso 
(Tetrao  obscurus)  lifted  himself  out  of  tln^.  t«'ail 


SOWEE   HOUSE.  —  LOOLOWCAN. 


163 


into  the  lower  branches  of  a  pliant  fir.  I  had 
lugged  my  double-barrel  thus  far,  a  futile  bur- 
den, unless  when  it  served  a  minatory  purpose 
among  the  drunken  Klalanis.  Now  it  became 
an  animated  maciiine,  and  uttered  a  sharp  ex- 
clamation of  relief  after  long  pati'jut  silence. 
Down  came  tetrao, — down  he  came  with  satisfac- 
tory thud,  signifying  pounds  of  sometliing  not 
pork  for  supper.  We  bagged  him  joyously  and 
dallied  on. 

"Kopct,"  whispered  Loolowcan  turning,  with  a 
hushing  gesture,  ^'  hin  kullakuUie  nika  nanitch  ; 
—  lialt,  plenty  birds  I  see.*'  He  was  so  eager 
that  from  under  Ids  low  brows  and  unkempt 
hair  his  dusky  eyes  glared  like  the  eyes  of  wild 
beast,  studying  his  piey  from  a  shadowy  lair. 

Dismounting,  I  stole  forward  with  assassin 
intent,  and  birds,  grouse,  five  noble  ones  I  saw, 
eiij^aged  in  fattening  their  bodies  for  human  sol- 
ace and  support.  I  sent  a  shot  among  them. 
There  was  a  flutter  among  the  choir,  —  one  ilut- 
tered  not.  At  the  sound  of  my  right  barrel  one 
liird  fell  without  rising ;  another  rose  and  fell 
at  a  hint  from  the  sinister  tube.  The  surviving 
trio  were  distracted  by  mortal  terror.  They  Hew 
no  farther  than  a  dwarf  tree  hard  by.  1  drew 
my  revolver,  thinking  that  there  might  not  be 
time  to  load,  and  fired  in  a  hurry  at  the  lower- 
•aost. 


4i 


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164 


THE  CANOE  AND  THE  SADDLE. 


til 
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1; 


"  Hyas  tamanoiis  !  "  whispered  Loolowcan, 
when  no  bird  fell  or  flew,  —  "big  magic,"  it 
seemed  to  the  superstitious  youth.  Often  when 
sportsmen  miss,  they  claim  that  their  gun  is 
bewitched,  and  avail  themselves  of  the  sure  silver 
bullet. 

A  second  ball,  passing  with  keener  aim  through 
the  barrel,  attained  its  mark.  Grouse  third 
shook  off  his  mortal  remains,  and  sped  to  heav- 
en. The  two  others,  contrary  to  rule,  for  I 
had  shot  the  lower,  fled,  cowardly  carrying  their 
heavy  bodies  to  die  of  cold,  starvation,  or  old 
age.  "  The  good  die  first,"  —  ay,  Wo^  ^swortli ! 
among  birds  this  is  verity ;  for  the  good  are  the 
fat,  who,  because  of  their  avoirdupois,  lag  in 
flight,  or  alight  upon  lower  branches  and  are 
easiest  shot. 

Loolowcan  bagged  my  three  trophies  and 
added  them  to  the  first.  Henceforth  the  thought 
of  a  grouse  supper  became  a  fixed  idea  with  mc. 
I  dwelt  upon  it  with  even  a  morbid  appetite.  I 
rehearsed,  in  prophetic  mood,  the  scene  of  pluck- 
ing, the  scene  of  roasting,  that  happy  festal 
scene  of  eating.  So  immersed  did  I  become  in 
gastronomic  revery,  that  I  did  not  mind  my 
lookout,  as  I  dashed  after  Loolowcan,  fearless  and 
agile  cavalier.  A  thrust  awoke  me  to  a  sense 
of  passing  objects,  a  very  fierce,  lance-like  thrust, 
full  at  my  life.     A  wrecking  snag  of  harsh  dead 


SOWEE  HOUSE.  —  LOOLOWCAN. 


165 


wood,  that  projected  up  in  the  trail,  struck  me, 
and  tore  me  half  off  my  horse,  leaving  mo 
jerked,  scratched,  disjointed,  and  shuddering. 
Pachydermatous  leggins  of  buckskin,  at  cost  of 
their  own  unity,  had  saved  mo  from  impalement. 
Some  such  warning  is  always  preparing  for  the 
careless. 

I  soon  had  an  opportunity  to  propitiate  Neme- 
sis by  a  humane  action.  A  monstrous  trunk  lay 
across  the  trail.  Loolowcan,  reckless  steeple- 
chaser, put  his  horse  at  it,  full  speed.  Gubbins, 
instead  of  going  over  neatly,  or  scrambling  over 
cat-like,  reared  rampant  and  shied  back,  volto 
face.  I  rode  forward  to  see  what  fresh  interfer- 
ence of  Tamanoiis  was  here,  —  nothing  tama- 
noiis  but  an  unexpected  sorry  ol)ject  of  a  horse. 
A  wretched  castaway,  probably  abandoned  by  the 
exploring  party,  or  astray  from  them,  essaying 
to  leap  the  tree,  had  fallen  back  beneath  the 
trunk  and  branches,  and  lay  there  entangled 
and  perfectly  helpless.  Wo  struggled  to  release 
him.  In  vain.  At  last  a  thought  struck  me. 
We  seized  the  poor  beast  by  his  tail,  fortunate- 
ly a  tenacious  member,  and,  heaving  vigorously, 
towed  him  out  of  prison. 

He  tottered  forlornly  to  his  feet,  looking  about 
him  like  one  risen  from  the  dead.  "  How  now. 
Caudal  ?  *'  said  I,  baptizing  him  by  the  name  of 
tlie  part  that  saved  his  life ;  ^'  canst  thou  follow 


ft. 

I 


a- 
I  an 


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1 


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f 
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166 


THE   CANOE  AND   THE   SADDLE. 


I 

I 

'11 

Ml 


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•ir 

Ml 


i 


« 


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f 


toward  fodder  ?  "  He  debated  the  question  with 
himself  awhile.  Solitary  confinement  of  inclcli- 
iiite  length,  in  a  cramped  posture,  had  given  the 
poor  skeleton  time  to  consider  that  safety  from 
starvation  is  worth  one  effort  more.  He  fuund 
that  tliere  was  still  a  modicum  of  life  and  its 
energy  within  his  baggy  hide.  My  horses  seeniud 
to  impart  to  him  some  of  their  electricity,  and 
he  staggered  on  droopingly.  Lucky  Caudal,  if 
life  is  worth  having,  that  on  that  day,  of  all  days, 
I  should  have  arrived  to  rescue  him.  Strange 
deliverances  for  body  and  soul  come  to  the  dying. 
Fate  sends  uidooked-for  succor,  when  or  horses 
or  men  despair. 

Luckily  for  Caudal,  the  weak-kneed  and  utter- 
ly dejected.  So  wee's  prairie  was  near,  —  near  was 
the  prairie  of  Sovvee,  mighty  hunter  of  doer  and 
elk,  terror  of  bears.  There  at  weird  night  So- 
wee's  ghost  was  often  seen  to  stalk.  Dyspeptics 
from  feather-beds  beliold  ghosts,  and  are  terrilied, 
but  nightwalkers  are  but  bugbears  to  men  who 
liave  ridden  from  dawn  to  dusk  of  a  long  sum- 
mer's day  over  an  Lidian  trail  in  the  moun- 
tains. I  felt  no  fear  that  any  incubus  in  tho 
sliape  of  a  brassy-hued  Indian  chief  would  f«it 
upon  my  breast  that  night,  and  murder  whole- 
some sleep. 

Nightfall  was  tumbling  down  from  the  zenith 
before  we  reached  camp.     The  sweet  glimmei's 


SOWEE   HOUSE.  —  LOOLOWCAN. 


167 


of  twilight  were  ousted  from  tlie  forest,  sternly 
as  mercy  is  thrust  from  a  darkening  heart. 
Night  is  really  only  beautiful  so  far  as  it  is  not 
night, — that  is,  for  its  stars,  which  are  sources 
of  resolute  daylight  in  other  spheres,  and  for  its 
moon,  which  is  daylight's  memory,  realized,  soft- 
ened, and  refined. 

Night,  however,  had  not  drawn  the  pall  of 
brief  death  over  the  world  so  thick  but  that  I 
could  see  enough  to  respect  the  taste  of  the  late 
Sowee.  When  he  voted  himself  this  farm,  and 
became  seized  of  it  in  the  days  of  unwritten  agra- 
rian laws,  and  before  patents  were  in  vogue,  he 
proved  his  intelligent  right  to  suffrage  and  seiz- 
ure. Here  in  admirable  quality  were  the  three 
first  requisites  of  a  home  in  the  wilderness, 
water,  wood,  and  grass.  A  nuisical  rustle,  as  we 
galloped  through,  proved  tiie  long  grass.  All 
around  was  the  unshorn  forest.  There  were 
columnar  firs  making  the  Sowee  house  a  hypae- 
tliral  temple  on  a  grand  scale. 

There  had  been  here  a  lodge.  A  few  saplings 
of  its  framework  still  stood,  but  Sowee  had 
moved  elsewhere  not  long  ago.  Wake  siali 
memloose,  —  not  long  dead  was  the  builder,  and 
viator  might  camp  here  unquestioned. 

Caudal  had  followed  us  in  inane,  irresponsible 
way.  Patient  now  he  stood,  apparently  waiting 
for  farther  commands  from  his  preservers.     We 


m 


1 
i 


1 


i 

•■m 


i 
1 
I 


168 


THE  CANOE  AND  THE  SADDLE. 


I 

Ml 

11 

III 

41 

HI 

«l 

«i 


ni 

*. 

Hi 

I 

r 

c 
I" 


unpacked  and  unsaddled  the  other  animals 
They  knew  their  business,  namely,  to  bolt  in- 
stantly for  their  pasture.  Then  a  busy  uproar 
of  nipping  and  crunching  was  heard.  Poor 
Caudal  could  not  take  the  hint.  We  wero 
obliged  to  drive  that  bony  estray  with  blows  out 
to  the  supper-field,  whore  he  stood  aghast  at  tlio 
appetites  of  his  new  comrades.  Repose  and  good 
example,  however,  soon  had  their  effect,  and 
eight  equine  jaws  instead  of  six  made  play  in  the 
herbage. 

^'  Alki  mika  mamook  pire,  pe  nesika  klatawah 
copa  klap  tsuk ;  now  light  thou  a  fire,  aud  we  will 
go  to  find  water,"  said  Loolowcan.  I  struck  fire, 
—  fire  smote  tinder, —  tinder  sent  the  flame  on, 
until  a  pyre  from  the  world's  free  wood-pile  was 
kindled.  This  boon  of  fire,  —  what  wonder  that 
men  devised  a  Prometheus  greatest  of  demigods 
as  its  discoverer  ?  Mortals,  shrinking  from  the 
responsibility  of  a  high  destiny  and  dreading  to 
know  how  divine  the  Divine  would  have  them, 
always  imagine  an  avatar  of  some  one  not  lower 
than  a  half-god  when  a  gift  of  great  price  comes 
to  the  world.  And  fire  is  a  very  priceless  and 
beautiful  boon, — not,  as  most  know  it,  in  impris- 
onment, barred  with  iron,  or  in  sooty  chimneys, 
or  in  mad  revolt  of  conflagration,  —  but  as  it 
grows  in  a  flashing  pyramid  out  in  camp  in  the 
free  woods,  with  eager  air  hurrying  in  on  every 


SOWEE  HOUSE.  —  LOOLOWCAN. 


169 


side  to  feed  its  glory.     In  the  gloom  I  strike 
metal  of  steel  against  metallic  flint.     From  this 
union  a  child  is  born.     I  receive  the  young  spark 
tenderly  in  warm  "  tipsoo,"  in  a  soft  woolly  nest 
of  bark  or  grass  tinder.      Swaddled  in  tliis  he 
thrives.      He   smiles  ;  he   chuckles  ;  he  laughs ; 
he  dances  about,  does  my  agile  nursling.     He 
will  soon   wear   out  his  first  infantile  garb,  so 
I  cover   him  up   in  shelter.      I  feed  him  with 
digestible    viands,   according    to    his    years.      I 
give  him   presently  stouter  fare,  and  offer  ex- 
hilarating   morsels    of    fatness.      All    these   the 
hearty  youth   assimilates,  and  grows   healthily. 
And  now  I  educate  him  to  manliness,  training 
him  on  great  joints,  shoulders,  and  marrowy  por- 
tions.   He  becomes  erelong  a  power  and  a  friend 
able  to  requite  me  generously  for  my  care.     He 
aids  me  in  preparing  my  feast,  and  we  feast  to- 
gether.   Afterward  we  talk, — Flame  and  I, — we 
think  together  strong  and  passionate  thoughts  of 
purpose  and  achievement.      These  emotions  of 
manhood  die  away,  and  we  share  pensive  memo- 
ries of  happiness  missed,  or  disdained,  or  feebly 
grasped  and  torn  away ;  regrets  cover  these  like 
embers,  and  slowly  over  dead  fieriness  comes  a 
robe  of  ashy  gray. 

Fire  in  the  forest  is  light,  heat,  and  cheer. 
When  ours  was  nurtured  to  the  self-sustaining 
I  point,  we  searched  to  find  where  the  sage  Sowee 


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kept  his  potables.  Carefully  covered  up  in 
sedges  was  a  slender  supply  of  water,  worth  con- 
cealing from  vulgar  dabblers.  Its  diamond  drops 
were  hidden  away  so  tiioroughly  that  we  must 
mine  for  them  hy  torchlight.  I  held  a  flaring 
torch,  while  Loolowcan  lay  in  wait  for  the  tric- 
kle, and  captured  it  in  a  tin  pot.  Uow  wild 
he  looked,  that  youth  so  frowzy  by  dayhght,  as, 
stooping  under  the  tall  sedges,  he  clutched  thu.^o 
priceless  sparkles. 

Upon  the  carte  dujour  at  Restaurant  Sowec 
was  written  Grouse.  "  How  shall  we  have 
them  ?  "  said  I,  cook  and  convive,  to  Loolowcan, 
marmiton  and  convive.  "  One  of  these  cocks 
of  the  mountain  shall  be  fried,  since  gridiron  is 
not,"  responded  I  to  myself,  after  meditation. 
"  Two  shall  be  spitted,  and  roasted ;  and,  as  Az- 
rael  may  not  want  us  before  breakfast  to-morrow, 
the  fourth  shall  go  upon  the  carle  de  dejeuner.'" 

"  0  Pork !  what  a  creature  thou  art  I  "  con- 
tinued I,  in  monologue,  cutting  neat  slices  of 
that  viand  with  my  bowie-knife,  and  laying  them 
fraternally,  three  in  a  bed,  in  the  frying-pan. 
"  Blessed  be  Moses !  who  forbade  thee  to  the 
Jews,  whereby  we,  of  freer  dispensations,  lieirs 
of  all  the  ages,  inherit  also  pigs  more  numerous 
and  bacon  cheaper.  0  Pork!  what  could  cam- 
paigners do  without  thy  fatness,  thy  leanness, 
thy  saltness,  thy  portableness  ?  '* 


Bero 

phicked 

roasters 

sultry  sj 

support! 

twig  ov( 

inverted 

juices  U 

on  each 

del  i  be  rat 

the  fryei 

while  I  1 

for  that  r 


60WEE   HOLSE.  —  LOOLOWCAN. 


171 


up     IP. 

Lh  con- 
1  drops 
3  nuiht 
fliiriiig 
l\c  tric- 
iw  wild 
ght,  as, 
d  thui?e 


Hero  Loolowcan  presented  nic  the  three  birds 
plucked  featherless  as  Plato's  man.  The  two 
roasters  wo  planted  carefully  on  s[)its  before  a 
sultry  spot  of  the  fire.  From  a  horizontal  stick, 
supported  on  forked  stakes,  we  suspended  by  a 
twig  over  each  roaster  an  automatic  baster,  an 
inverted  cone  of  pork,  ordained  to  yield  its  spicy 
juices  to  tho  wooing  flame,  and  drip  bedewing 
on  each  bosom  beneath.  The  roasters  ripened 
deliberately,  while  keen  and  quick  fire  told  upon 
the  fryer,  the  first  course  of  our  feast.  Mean- 
while I  brewed  a  pot  of  tea,  blessing  Confucius 
for  that  restorative  weed,  as  I  had  blessed  Moses 
for  his  abstinence  from  porkers. 

Need  I  say  that  the  grouse  were  admirable, 
that  everything  was  delicious,  and  tho  Confucian 
weed  first  chop  ?  Even  a  scouse  of  mouldy 
biscuit  met  the  approval  of  Loolowcan.  Feasts 
cooked  under  the  greenwood  tree,  and  eaten  by 
their  cooks  after  a  triumphant  day  of  progress, 
are  sweeter  than  the  conventional  banquets  of 
languid  Christendom.  After  wo  had  paid  our 
duty  to  the  brisk  fryer  and  tho  rotund  roaster 
grouse,  nothing  remained  but  bones  to  propitiate 
Howee,  should  he  find  short  commons  in  Ely- 
sium, and  wander  back  to  his  lodge,  seeking  what 
he  might  devour.  * 

All  along  the  journey  I  had  been  quietly 
probing  the  nature  of  Loolowcan,  my  most  inti- 


(•«' 


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172 


THE  CANOE  AND  THE  SADDLE. 


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mate  a8sociato  thus  far  among  the  unalloyod 
copper-skins.  Chinook  jargon  was  indeed  but 
a  blunt  probe,  yet  perhaps  delicate  enough  to 
follow  up  8uch  rough  bits  of  conglomerate  as 
served  him  for  ideas.  An  inductive  philosopher, 
tracing  the  laws  of  developing  human  thuu^'ht 
in  corpore  viti  of  a  frowzy  savage,  finds  his  work 
simple, —  the  nuggets  are  on  the  surface.  Those 
tough  pebbles  known  to  some  metaphysicians  as 
innate  ideas,  can  bo  studied  in  Loolowcan  in  their 
process  of  formation  out  of  instincts. 

Number  One  is  the  prize  number  in  Loolow- 
can's  lottery  of  life.  He  thinks  of  that  number ; 
lie  dreams  of  it  alone.  Wiien  he  lies  down  to 
sleep,  he  plots  what  he  will  do  in  the  morning 
with  his  prize  and  his  possession ;  when  he 
wakes,  he  at  once  proceeds  to  execute  his  plots. 
Loolowcan  knows  that  there  are  powers  out  of 
himself ;  rights  out  of  himself  he  does  not  com- 
prehend, or  even  conceive.  1  have  thus  far  been 
very  indulgent  to  him,  and  treated  him  repub- 
licanly,  mindful  of  the  heavy  mesne  profits  lor 
the  occupation,  of  a  continent,  and  the  uncounted 
arrears  of  blood-money  owed  by  my  race  to  his; 
yet  I  find  no  trace  of  gratitude  in  my  analysis 
of  his  character.  He  seems  to  be  composed, 
selfishness,  five  hundred  parts  ;  nil  admirari  cool* 
iiess,  five  hundred  parts;  —  a  well-balanced  char" 
actcr,  aud  perhaps  one  not  likely  to  excite  en- 


SOWEE  HOUSE  —  LOOLOWCAN. 


173 


thusiasm  in  otiiors.  I  am  a  steward  to  him  ;  I 
purvey  him  also  a  horso  ;  when  wo  reach  tlio 
Dalles,  I  am  to  pay  him  for  his  services  ;  —  hut 
lie  is  hound  to  me  hy  no  tie  of  comrude-ry.  Ue 
has  caution  more  highly  developed  than  any 
({uadrupcd  I  have  met,  and  will  not  ofl'end  me 
loiit  I  should  resign  my  stewardship,  retract 
Gubbins,  refuse  payment,  discharge  my  guide, 
and  fight  through  the  woods,  where  ho  sees  1 
am  no  stranger,  alone.  He  certainly  merits  a 
"  teapot "  for  his  ability  in  guidance.  lie  has 
memory  and  observation  unerring ;  not  once  in 
all  our  intricate  journey  have  I  found  him  at 
faHlt  in  any  fact  of  space  or  time.  He  knows 
"  each  lane  and  every  alley  green  **  here,  accu- 
rately as  Comus  knew  his  "  wild  wood." 

Moral  conceptions  exist  only  in  a  very  limited 
degree  for  this  type  of  his  race.  Of  God  he 
knows  somewhat  less  than  the  theologians  ;  that 
is,  he  is  in  the  primary  condition  of  uninquisitivo 
ignorance,  not  in  the  secondary,  of  inquisitive 
muddle.  Ho  has  the  advantage  of  no  elaborate 
system  of  human  inventions  to  unlearn.  He 
lias  no  distinct  fctichism.  None  of  the  North 
American  Indians  liavo,  in  the  accurate  sense 
of  the  term ;  their  nomad  life  and  tough  struggle 
with  instructive  Nature  in  her  roughness  save 
them  from  such  elaborate  fetichism  as  may  3xist 
in  more  indolent  climes  and  countries. 


It' 
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174 


THE  CAXOE  AND  THE  SADDLE. 


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Loolowcaii  has  his  tamanoiis.  It  is  Talipus, 
the  Wolf,  a  **  hyas  skookoom  tamaiioUs,  a  very 
mighty  demon,"  he  informs  mo.  He  docs  not 
worship  it ;  tliat  would  interfere  with  his  devo- 
tions to  his  real  deity,  Number  One.  It,  in 
return,  docs  him  little  service.  If  he  met  Ta- 
lipus, object  of  his  superstition,  on  a  lair  morn- 
ing, he  would  think  it  a  good  omen  ;  if  on  a 
sulky  morning,  he  -night  be  somcwliat  depressed, 
but  would  not  on  that  account  turn  back,  as  a 
Roman  brave  would  have  done  on  meeting  the 
matinal  wolf.  In  fact,  he  keeps  Talipus,  his 
tamanoiis,  as  a  kind  of  ideal  hobby,  very  much 
as  a  savage  civilized  man  entertains  a  pet  bull- 
dog or  a  tame  bear,  a  link  between  himself  and 
the  rude,  dangerous  ^  rces  of  nature.  Loolow- 
caii has  either  Jiosen  his  protector  according  to 
the  law  of  likeness,  or,  choosing  it  by  chance, 
has  become  assimilated  to  its  characteristics.  A 
wolfish  youth  is  the  protrgt^^  of  Talijms,  —  an 
unfaithful,  sinister,  cannibal-looking  son  of  a 
horse-thief.  Wolfish  likewise  is  his  appetite; 
when  ho  asks  me  for  more  dinner,  and  this 
without  stint  or  decorum  he  does,  he  glares  as 
if,  grouse  failing,  pork  and  hard-tack  gone,  he 
could  call  to  Talipus  to  send  in  a  pack  of  wolves 
incarnate,  and  pounce  with  them  upon  me.  A 
pleasant  companion  this  for  lamb-like  me  to  lie 
4own  beside  in  the  den  of  the  late  Sowee.    Yet 


SOWEE   lIOrSE.  —  LOOLOWCAN. 


175 


I  do  presently,  after  supper  and  a  pipe,  and  a 
little  jar^oning  in  Chinook  with  my  Wolf,  roll 
into  my  l)lankets,  and  j-leop  vigorously,  lulled  hy 
the  gratifying  noise  of  my  graminivorous  horses 
cramming  themselves  with  material  for  leagues 
of  lope  to-morrow. 

No  shade  of  Sowee  came  to  my  slumhcrs  with 
warnings  against  the  wolf  in  guise  of  a  Kliekatat 
brave.  I  had  no  ghostly  incuhus  to  shake  off, 
hut  sprang  up  recreate  in  hody  ami  soul.  Life 
is  vivid  when  it  thus  awakes.     To  bo  is  to  do. 

And  to-day  much  is  to  he  done.  Long  leagues 
away,  beyond  a  gorge  of  difiiculty,  is  the  open 
rulling  hill  country,  and  again  far  beyond  aro 
the  lodges  of  the  people  of  Owhhigh.  "  To-day," 
said  Loolowcan,  '*  we  must  go  copa  nika  iliheo, 
to  my  home,  to  Weenas." 

Forlorn  Caudal  is  hardly  yet  a  frisky  quadru- 
piMl.  Y(;t  he  is  of  better  cheer,  perhaps  up  to 
tin;  family-nag  degree  of  vivacity.  As  to  the 
utiiors,  they  have  waxed  fat,  and  kick.  Klale, 
the  Humorous,  kickti  playfully,  elongating  his 
h'lrs  in  [)reparatory  gymnastics.  Gubbins,  the 
average  horsi;,  kicks  calmly  at  his  saddler, 
merely  as  a  |)r()test.  Anti[)odes,  the  spiteful 
Uluiiderer,  kicks  in  a  revolutionary  manjier, 
rolls  under  his  pack-saddle,  and  will  not  budge 
without  maltreatment.  Ill-educated  Antipodes 
views  mankind  only  as  excoriators  of  his  back, 


i«i 


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176 


THE  CANOE  AND  THE  SADDLE. 


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and  general  flagellants.      Klickatats  kept  him 
raw  in  flesh  and  temper ;  under  me  his  physical 
condition    improves;    his  character   is  not  yet 
aflccted. 
Before  sunrise  we  quitted  the  house  of  Sowee, 


* 


I 

r 


IX. 


VIA    MALA. 


v«» 


I  WAS  now  to  enter  the  world  ea«t  of  the  Cas- 
cades, emerging  from  the  dense  forest  of  the 
mountain-side.  Pacific  winds  sailing  inland 
leave  most  of  their  moisture  on  tho  western 
slopes  of  the  range.  Few  of  the  cloudy  battal- 
ions that  sweep  across  the  sea,  and  come,  not 
like  an  invading  horde  of  ravagers,  hut  like  aii 
army  of  generous  allies,  —  few  of  these  pas*^ 
over  the  ramparts,  ai»d  pour  their  wealth  into 
the  landward  valleys.  The  giant  trees,  fattened 
in  their  cells  by  plenteous  draughts  of  water, 
are  no  longer  found.  The  land  is  arid.  Sh>pcs 
and  levels  of  ancient  volcanic  rock  ai-e  no  longer 
fertilized  by  the  secular  deposit  of  forests,  show- 
ering down  year  by  year  upon  the  earth  liberal 
interest  for  the   ca^)ital  it  has  lent. 

Tluongh  this  drier  and  airier  region  we  now 
hastened.  An  arrowy  river,  clear  and  cold,  be- 
came our  companion.  Where  it  might,  the  trail 
followed  the  Nachchcse  valley,  —  a  rough  rift 
ot'teu,  and  hai*dly  meriting  the  gentle  natue  of 

8«  L 


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178 


THE  CANOE  AND  THE  SADDLE. 


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»* 


valley.  Precipices,  stiff,  uncrumbling  preci- 
pices, are  to  be  found  there,  if  any  one  is  am- 
bitious to  batter  bis  brains.  Cleft  front  on  tho 
right  bank  answers  to  cleft  front  on  the  left,  — 
fronts  cloven  when  the  eartli's  crust,  cooi'iij; 
hereabouts,  snapped,  and  the  monsters  of  tho 
period  heard  the  rumble  and  roar  of  the  earth- 
quake, their  crack  of  doom.  ^onil)re  basalt 
walls  in  the  fugitive  river,  great,  gloomy,  pur- 
ple heights,  sheer  and  desperate  as  suicide,  rise 
six  hundred  feet  above  the  water.  Above  these 
downright  mural  breaks  rise  vast  dangerous 
curves  of  mountain-side,  thousands  of  feet  on 
high,  just  at  such  angle  tluit  slide  or  no  sHdo 
becomes  a  (jucstion.  A  traveller,  Jiot  despond- 
ing, but  only  cautious,  hesitates  to  wake  Eclio, 
lest  that  sweet  nymph,  stirring  with  the  tremors 
of  awakening,  should  set  air  vibrating  out  of 
its  condition  of  quiet  pressure,  and  the  enor- 
mous mountain,  seizing  tliis  instant  of  relief, 
ebould  send  down  some  cubic  miles  in  an  ava- 
lanche tO  crush  the  traveller. 

A  very  desolate  valley,  and  a  harsh  defde  at 
best  for  a  trail  to  pursue.  At  best  the  way 
might  wind  among  drbris,  or  pass  over  hanl 
plates  of  sheeny,  igneous  rock,  or  plunge  into 
the  chill  river,  or  follow  a  belt  of  sand,  or 
struggle  in  swampy  thickets,  —  tliis  at  best  it 
did.     But  when  worst  came,  when  the  precipices 


VIA    MAI. A. 


179 


neareJ  each  other,  narrowing  the  canon  pathless, 
and  there  were  deej),  ytill,  sunless  pools,  brim- 
ming up  to  the  giant  walls  of  the  basin,  tiieii 
the  trail  must  desert  tljc  river,  and  climb  many 
lnnnlreds  of  feet  above.  1  must  coinj>el  my 
horses,  with  no  warranty  against  a  stumble  or  a 
lull,  along  overhanging  verges,  wiieru  one  slip, 
or  even  one  ungraceful  change  of  foot,  would 
topple  the  stumblcr  and  his  burden  down  to 
bo  hashed  agsunst  jutting  ])oints,  and  tossed 
fragmentary,  food  for  fishes,  in  the  lucid  pool 
bt'law.      For     tliere    were    salmon    there,    still 


working    up    stream,    seeiving    the    purest    and 
safest  spots  for  their  future  families. 

Now  all  of  this  was  hard  work,  some  of  it 
dangerous.  It  was  well  that,  in  the  paddock 
of  Sowee,  my  horses  had  (illed  themselves  with 
cl.istic  grass,  parent  of  activity  and  coursige. 
Caudal,  though  bearing  no  burden  but  himself, 
was  ol'ten  tempted  to  despair.  Society,  exam- 
plo,  and  electric  shocks  of  friendly  castigatioii 
ised  him.      We    rode    hard  along  this  wild 


aroi 


pu'ge,  down  tl  2sc  dreary  vistas,  up  and  down 
llit'se  vast  barr  w  bulks  of  mountain.  Forlorn 
yellow  pines,  starveling  children  of  a<!ver>«ity, 
frnarled  and  scrubby,  began  to  a[)pear,  shal)by 
s»il)>titiites  for  tin?  prosperous  hrs  and  cedars 
lu'liiiid.  But  any  gracefulness  of  vegetation, 
'uiy  feeling  of  adornment,  would  be  out  of  place 


11, u 


«» 


1 
i 


1 

.  * 


f 
1 
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180 


THE  CANOE  AKD  THE  SADDLE. 


I 

4 

I 


«9 

! 

r 

I 


I.' 

s: 


among  those  big,  unrofinod  grandeurs.  Beauty 
and  grace,  and  all  conceivable  delicacy  of  form 
and  color,  light  and  shade,  belong  to  the  highest 
sublimities  of  Nature.  Taconia  is  as  lovely  with 
all  the  minor  charms,  as  it  is  divinely  majestic 
by  the  possession  of  the  greater,  and  power  of 
combining  and  harmonizing  the  loss.  But  tlicro 
is  a  lower  kind  of  sublimity,  where  the  predomi- 
nant effect  is  one  merely  of  power,  bigness,  tho 
gigantesque  and  cyclopean,  rude  force  acting 
disorderly,  and  producing  a  hurly-burly  almost 
grotesque.  Perhaps  sublimity  is  too  noble  a 
word  to  apply  to  these  results  of  ill-rcgulatcd 
frenzy ;  they  are  grand  as  war,  not  noble  aa 
peace.  Such  qualities  of  Nature  have  an  edu- 
cational value,  as  legends  of  giants  may  prepare 
1  child  to  compreliend  histories  of  heroes.  The 
volcanic  turbulence  of  the  region  I  was  now 
traversing  might  fitly  train  the  mind  to  per- 
ceive the  want  of  scenes  as  vast  and  calmer ; 
—  Salvator  Rosa  is  not  without  significance 
among  the  teachers  of  Art. 

No  Pacific  Railroad  in  the  Nachcheso  Pass,  — 
that  my  coup  iTasil  assured  me.  Even  the  Bos- 
ton hooihut,  with  all  its  boldness  in  the  forest, 
here  could  do  little.  Trees  of  a  century  may  be 
felled  in  an  hour ;  crags  of  an  ajon  baffle  a  cycle. 
The  Boston  hooiluit  must  worm  its  modest  way 
ill  and  out  the  gorge,  without  essaying  to  toss 


VIA   MALA. 


181 


down  precipices  into  chasms.  My  memory  and 
my  hasty  road-book  alike  fail  me  in  artistic  detail 
to  make  pictures  of  that  morning's  Via  Mala. 
My  chief  emotion  was  expressed  in  a  sigh  for 
release.  It  was  one  of  those  unkindly  days  of 
summer  when  sunlight  seems  not  a  smile,  but  a 
sneer.  Cruel  heat  was  reflected  back  from  wall 
to  wall  of  the  pass,  palpitating  to  and  fro  between 
baked,  verdureless,  purple  cliff  on  this  side,  and 
the  hot  harshness  of  opponent  purple  cliff  across 
the  stream.  I  breathed  a  sirocco-like  air  with- 
out pabulum,  without  constituents  of  blood.  I 
could  fabricate  a  pale  fury,  an  insane  nervous 
energy,  out  of  this  unwholesome,  fiery  stuff,  but 
no  ardor,  no  joyousness,  no  doffing  aside  of 
troublous  care.  I  could  advance,  and  never 
flinch,  because  needs  must ;  but  it  seemed  a 
weary,  futile  toil,  to  spur  my  horse  over  the 
ugly  pavements  of  unyielding  rock,  up  over  the 
crumbling  brown  acclivities,  by  perilous  ways 
along  the  verge  of  gulfs,  where  I  could  bend  to 
the  right  from  my  saddle,  and  see  the  river  a 
thousand  feet  below.  I  felt  in  this  unlifting  at- 
mosphere, unwavering  except  where  it  trembled 
over  the  heated  surfaces,  no  elation,  as  I  over- 
came crest  after  crest  of  mountain  along  the 
path,  —  no  excitement,  as  Kli:le,  the  unerring, 
galloped  me  down  miles  of  broak-neck  declivity, 
—  my  thundering  squadron  hammering  with  six- 


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THE  CANOF.  AND  THE  SADDLE. 


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teen  legs  on  the  echoing  crust  of  this  furnace 
cover.         ii.'   I  ' 

Ever,  *'  Ilyack,"  cried  Looh)wcan  ;  "  sia-a-alj 
mitiite  WeiMias  ;  —  Speed,"  cried  the  Frowzy  j 
"far,  far  lietii   Weenas."  " 

We  were  now,  just  after  noon,  drawing  out  of 
tlie  chasms  into  a  more  oj)cn  valley,  when,  as  we 
wound  throujrii  a  thicket  of  liazr'ls  nonr  tlie  rivor, 
Loolowcan  suddeidy  halted,  and  motioned  nie 
niystcrionsly. 

''  Whiit  now,  0  proU^g-d  of  Talipus  ?  Is  it 
bear  or  Boston  man  ?  " 

"  Pasaiooks,  —  halo  cuitan  ;  —  Blankcteer,  — 
no  horse  !  "  said  Loolowcan,  with  astonishment. 

And  there  indeed  was  a  horseless  gentlemaa, 
tossing  pebbles  into  the  Nachchese,  as  quietly  as 
if  he  were  on  the  Hudson.  What  with  littlo 
nieilicine  Klickatats,  exj)loring  parties,  Boston 
hooihuters,  stray  Caudals,  and  unhorsed  loun- 
gers, t!ie  Nachchese  trail  was  becoming  quite  a 
thorouglilare. 

The  stranger  proved  no  stranger ;  hardly  even 
horsidess,  for  his  mule,  from  a  patch  of  grass  in 
the  thicket,  presently  brayed  welcome  to  my 
nags.  The  gentleman  was  one  of  Captain  Mc- 
Clellan's  paity,  come  up  from  their  camp  some 
lisagues  farther  down.  He  was  waiting  at  this 
rendezvous  for  the  Caj>tain,  who  was  exploring 
another  brancli  of  the  river.     To  a  patroller  of 


VIA   MALA. 


183 


i-a-ah 

►wzy  ; 

Hit  of 

as  we 

rivor, 

d    luo 

crowded  city  avenues,  it  may  not  seem  &  signifi- 
cant fact  that  a  man  in  a  solitary  trail  met  a  man. 
liut  to  me,  a  not  unsociable  being,  travelling 
witli  a  hall-insolent,  hall-indiirerent,  jargoning 
eavago,  down  a  Via  Mala  of  desolation,  toward 
a  realm  of  possibly  unbrotherly  nomads,  an 
encounter  by  the  wayside  with  a  man  and  a 
l)rothor  was  a  fact  to  enjoy  and  an  emotion  to 
chronicle. 

IJut  human  sympathy  was  not  dinner  for  my 
horses.  I  must  advance  toward  that  unknown 
spot  where,  having  full  confidence  in  Nature,  I 
believed  that  a  table  would  be  spread  for  them 
in  I  lie  wilderness.  *'  Nature  never  did  deceive 
tlio  heart  that  loved  her";  for  a  true  lover  be- 
c(»ni(3s  a  student  of  his  mistress's  character 
enough  not  to  demand  impossil)ilities.  And 
soon  did  that  goddess,  kindly  and  faithful  object 
of  my  life-long  devotion,  verify  my  trust,  pro- 
viding not  only  fodder  for  my  cavalry,  but  a 
Ixnver  for  my  nooning,  a  breeze  from  above  to 
stir  the  dead,  hot  air,  and  a  landscape  appropri- 
ate to  a  banquet,  and  not  like  the  cruel  chasms 
1  had   passed.  ' 

In  a  patch  of  luxuriant  wild-pea  vines  my 
horses  had  refreshing  change  of  diet,  befitting 
the  change  of  region.  No  monotony  of  scene 
or  action  for  man  or  beast  thus  far  in  this  jour- 
ney, no  stagnation  of  miud  or  body  from  unex- 


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THE  CANOE   AND   THE  SADDT.K. 


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citing  diet  For  me,  from  the  moment  when  my 
vain  negotiations  began  with  King  Qeorgo  of  iho 
Klalams,  life  had  beiui  at  its  keenest,  its  readiest, 
its  fleetest.  Multitudinously  besprent  also  with 
beauty  like  a  bed  of  pansies  had  bcea  these  days 
of  dash  and  charge.  My  finer  and  coarser  ajs- 
thetic  faculties  had  been  so  exercised  that,  if  an 
uneducated  traveller,  I  might  have  gone  bewil- 
dered with  phantasmagoria.  13i:fc  bewilderment 
comes  from  superficialness ;  type  thoughts  stripped 
of  surface  cloaking  are  compact  as  diamonds. 

My  camp  for  present  nooning  was  a  charming 
little  Arcady,  shady,  sunny,  and  verdant.  Two 
dense  spruces  made  pleasant  twanging  to  the 
newly-risen  breeze.  These  were  the  violins  of 
my  festival  orchestra  with  strings  self-resinous, 
while  down  the  canon  roared  tlie  growing  gale, 
and,  filling  all  pauses  in  this  aerial  music,  the 
Nachchese  tinkled  merrily,  or  dashed  boister- 
ously, or  rattled  eagerly. 

"  On,  on  with  speed  ! "  was  the  lesson  hinted 
to  me  by  wind  and  water.  Yet  as  I  cooked  for 
dinner  a  brace  of  grouse,  my  morning's  prey,  I 
might  have  allowed  myself  to  yield  to  vainglo- 
rious dalliance.  The  worser  half  of  my  scamper 
was  behind  me.  "  Try  not  the  pass,"  people  hud 
said  ;  "  you  cannot  put  your  space  into  your 
time,"  said  they,  hinting  also  at  dangers  of  soli- 
tary travel  with  one  of  the  crafty.     But  I  had 


VIA   MALA. 


185 


taken  tho  risk,  and  success  was  thus  far  witli  mc. 
Let  mo  now  bowaro  of  too  much  confKUjiico. 
Who  can  say  wlmt  hirks  in  tho  heart  of  Locilow- 
can  ?  He  who  persuades  himself  tliat  his  difTi- 
culties  are  fought  through,  is  but  at  tlnushold 
of  them.  When  he  winds  the  horn  of  triumpli, 
perhaps  the  sudden  ogre  will  appear ;  then  woo 
be  to  the  knight,  if  he  has  taken  the  ca{)s  otf  his 
revolver. 

Loolowcan  and  I  were  smoking  our  pipes  of 
tobacco,  when  the  tramp  of  hoofs  was  heard 
along  the  trail,  and,  with  the  late  skipper  of 
stones  and  a  couple  of  soldiers.  Captain  McClel- 
liin  rode  up.  In  vain,  through  the  Nachchoso 
Canon,  had  the  Captain  searched  for  a  Pacific 
Railroad.  He  must  search  elsewhere,  along  8uo- 
qualme  Pass  or  other.  Apart  from  a  pleasant 
moment  of  reciprocal  well-wishing,  the  chief 
result  of  this  interview  was,  that  I  became  dis- 
enil)arrassed  of  my  treasure-trovo  Caudal.  I 
seized  the  earliest  chance  of  restoring  this  chat- 
tel to  Uncle  Sam,  whose  initials  were  branded 
upon  his  flank.  No  very  available  recruit  to  my 
squadron  of  light  horse  was  this  debilitated  ke- 
terrypid,  whom  Good  Samaritanism  compelled 
me  to  humanely  entreat.  Besides,  I  had  erred 
in  his  baptism  ;  I  had  called  him  Caudal,  and 
he  naturally  endeavored  to  take  his  })lacc  in  the 
rear.  K  I  had  but  thought  to  name  him  Head 
long ! 


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THE   CANOE   AND  THE   SADDLE. 


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Rest  in  the  shade  of  the  spruces  by  the  buzz- 
ing river  was  so  sweet,  after  the  severity  of  my 
morning's  ride,  that  I  hesitated  for  myself  and 
for  my  unwilling  mustangs  to  renew  the  journey. 
To  pace  on  an  ambling  mule  over  level  green- 
sward, like  a  fat  papal  legate  travelling,  in  me- 
diaeval times,  from  refectory  to  refectory,  —  that 
seems  as  much  as  one  would  wish  to  do  on  a 
hot  afternoon  of  August.  I  shook  off  such  indo- 
lent thoughts,  and  mounted.  Exertion  is  its 
own  reward.  The  joy  in  the  first  effort  over- 
balances the  delight  of  sloth,  and  the  joy  in  per- 
petual effort  is  clear  gain.  And  really  never  an 
ambling  palfrey,  slow-footed  potterer  under  an 
abbot,  interfered  less  with  his  rider's  quietude 
than  Klale,  the  gentle  loper.  We  dragged  our- 
selves from  the  shade  and  the  pea-vines,  and 
went  dashing  at  full  speed  along  the  trail,  no 
longer  encumbered  by  fallen  trunks  and  hurdles 
of  busli  and  brier.  Merely  rough,  meagre,  and 
stony  was  the  widening  valley,  and  dotted  over 
its  adust  soil  with  yellow  pines,  standing  apart 
in  scraggy  isolation.     -  -    '    ■  - 

At  five  I  reached  Captain  McClellan's  camp 
of  two  tents.  He  was  not  yet  returned  from 
prying  into  some  other  gorge,  some  purple  cav- 
ernous defile  for  his  railroad  route.  Loolow- 
can's  "  far  to  Weenas  *'  the  sergeant  in  charge 
interpreted    to    mean    still    twenty-five    miles. 


VIA  MALA. 


187 


Their  own  main  body  was  encamped  in  the 
Weenas  valley.  Twenty-five  miles  is  a  terrible 
supplement,  my  horses,  after  the  labors  of  one 
day ;  but  ye  still  seem  fresh,  thanks  to  the  pad- 
dock of  So  wee,  and  the  pea-vines  at  noon,  and 
to-morrow  who  knows  but  ye  may  bo  running 
free  over  the  plains,  while  I  with  fresh  nags  go 
on  toward  the  Dalles.  We  may  not  therefore 
accept  the  hospitality  of  the  camp,  but  must  on 
lustily  down  the  broad  valley  this  windy  evening 
of  summer. 

Every  appogiatura  of  Klale's  galloping  fore- 
feet and  hind-feet  seemed  doubly  musical  to  me 
now.  I  had  escaped  ;  I  was  clear  of  the  stern 
mountains ;  I  was  out  upon  the  great  surging 
prairie-land.  Before  me  all  was  open,  bare,  and 
vast.  To  the  south,  pine  woods  stretched,  like 
helmet  crests,  along  the  tops  and  down  to  the 
nodding  fronts  of  brown  hills  ;  behind,  the  gloomy 
mass  of  the  lower  Cascades  rose  up,  anticipating 
sunset.  Distance  and  dimness  shut  up  the  clefts, 
and  made  the  whole  background  one  great  wall, 
closing  avenues  of  return,  and  urging  me  for- 
ward upon  my  eastward  way. 

The  sun  had  gone  down  behind  the  mountains, 
had  paused  on  the  tides  of  Whulge,  had  sunk 
in  ocean.  Twilight  came,  and  the  wind  grew 
mightier,  roaring  after  us  like  the  voice  of  the 
Btorm  that  baffled  the  hunter  of  hiaqua.     Tho 


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gale  lifted  us  up  over  the  tremendous  wide  roll- 
ing oulk  of  grassy  surges,  and  we  swept  scudding 
into  billowy  deeps  below. 

In  the  thickening  dusk  I  discerned  an  object, 

—  not  a  tree,  not  a  rock;  but  a  mobile  black 
object,  scuttling  away  for  a  belt  of  thicket  near 
the  river. 

"  A  bear ! "  I  cried.    "  Itshoot  1 "  echoed  Loo- 
lowcan. 

Nothing  but  grouse-shot  in  my  double-barrel, 

—  that  I  handed  to  the  Frowzy ;  six  leaden 
peppercorns  in  my  eight-inch  revolver,  —  that 
I  kept.  Now,  Klale,  it  is  whether  Itshoot  or 
thou  wilt  first  touch  cover.  Elale  leaped  for- 
ward like  an  adult  grasshopper.  Bruin,  hearing 
hoofs,  lurched  on  like  a  coal-barge  in  a  tide  bob- 
bery. I  was  within  thirty  feet  of  him  when  he 
struck  the  bushes.  I  fired.  He  felt  it,  and  with 
a  growl  stopped  and  turned  upon  us.  Klale 
swerved  from  those  vicious  claws,  so  that  I 
merely  heard  and  felt  them  rattle  on  my  stirrup, 
as  I  fired  again  right  into  the  bear's  vacant  hug. 
Before  I  could  check  and  turn  my  horse.  Bruin 
had  concluded  the  unwelcome  interview.  He 
had  disappeared  in  the  dense  thicket.  In  vain 
Loolowcan  and  I  beat  about  in  the  dusk.  The 
ursine  dodger  did  not  profit  by  his  chances  of 
ambuscade  to  embrace  one  of  us  and  that  chance 
together.    He  was  not  to  be  found.    Perhaps  I 


\ 


m. 


VIA  MALA. 


189 


am  the  slayer  of  a  bear.  One  shot  at  thirty 
feet,  and  one  across  the  breadth  of  a  handker- 
chief, might  possibly  discontinue  the  days  of  such 
shaggy  monster. 

When  we  were  upon  the  trail  again,  and  gal^ 
loping  faster  under  the  stars,  I  found  that  I  had 
a  new  comic  image  in  my  mind.  I  roared  with 
jolly  laughter,  recalling  how  that  uncouth  crea- 
ture had  clumsily  pawed  at  me,  missing  lacera- 
tion by  an  inch.  Had  Klale  swerved  but  a  little 
less,  there  would  have  been  tragi-comedy  in  this 
farce.  In  place  of  the  buckskins  torn  yesterday, 
I  wore  a  pair  of  old  corduroys,  with  scarlet  cloth 
leggings  ;  Destiny  thought  these  did  not  need  to 
be  farther  incarnadined,  nor  my  shins,  much 
abused  along  the  briery  trail,  to  be  torn  by  any 
crueller  thorniness  of  bears'  claws.  There  was, 
however,  underlying  too  extravagant  fun,  this 
sense  of  escape  from  no  fun.  Nature  will  not 
allow  even  her  grotesque  creatures  to  be  quite 
scoffed  at.  Bears  may  be  laughable,  but  they 
are  not  ridiculous.  I  have  been  contiguous  to 
an  uncaged  bear  in  free  clutching  trim  but  this 
once,  and  I  respect  him  too  much  to  laugh  at 
him  to  his  face.  With  him  I  could  laugh  when 
he  is  in  humorous  mood^  but  at  Bruin  I  laugh 
no  more.  ..       ,  ^ 

By  the  time  I  had  thus  reasoned  out  the  lesson 
of  my  beai'-fight,  darkness  had  come.    The  ex- 


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190 


THE   CANOE   AND   THE   SADDLE. 


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hilaration  of  night-air  revived  my  horses.  They 
guided  themselves  bravely  along  the  narrow  way, 
and  bravely  climbed  the  lift  and  sway  of  land 
surges.  Yet  over  these  massive  undulations  we 
could  travel  but  slowly.  When  it  might,  the  trail 
followed  the  terrace  above  tlic  Nachchese.  Often 
wherever  the  trail  might  choose  to  follow,  we 
might  not  follow  it  in  the  dark.  Stony  arroyos 
would  cut  it  in  twain,  or  a  patch  of  wild-sage 
bushes  or  a  belt  of  hazels  and  alders  send  it 
astray.  Then  would  Loolowcan  open  wide  his 
dusky  eyes,  to  collect  every  belated  glimmer  of 
twilight,  and  zigzag  until  again  he  found  the  clew 
of  our  progress.  While  he  searched,  Klale  and 
Antipodes  took  large  morsels  of  epicurean  bunch- 
grass,  in  convenient  tufts,  a  generous  mouthful 
in  each.    ^     .<*-"'i-i>  ■:-''^;^'*^    --    •  'a-.,;. ^^  ■:■■:■   r 

It  grew  harder  and  harder  to  find  the  perma- 
nent narrow  wake  of  voyagers  beforetime  over 
the  great  ground-swells  of  this  unruly  oceanic 
scope  of  earth.  Mariners  may  cut  their  own 
hooihut  over  the  hilly  deep  by  the  stars.  Ter- 
rene travellers  cannot  thus  independently  reject 
history ;  they  must  humble  themselves  to  be  fol- 
lowers where  tribes  have  tramped  before.  Even 
such  condescension  may  not  avail  when  night  is 
master.  Loolowcan,  though  eager  as  I  to  press 
on,  finally  perforce  admitted  that  we  lost  our  way 
ill  the  thickets  and  over  the  gravel  oftener  than 


VIA   lilALA. 


191 


we  found  it ;  that  the  horses  flagged  sadly,  and 
we  must  stop.  .    > 

It  was  one  of  those  cloudless  gales,  when  it 
seems  as  if  the  globe  is  whirring  on  so  fast  be- 
neath the  stars,  that  air  must  use  its  mightiest 
force  of  wing  lest  it  be  left  a  laggard.  In 
moments  of  stillness,  while  the  flapping  of  these 
enormous  pinions  ceased,  and  the  gale  went  glid- 
ing on  by  impetus,  we  could  hear  the  far-away 
rumble  of  the  river.  Sound  is  only  second  to 
sight  as  a  guide  out  of  darkness.  The  music  of 
a  stream,  singing  with  joy  tliat  it  knows  its  way, 
is  pleasanter  guidance  than  the  bark  of  village 
cur,  who,  though  he  bite  not  because  he  bark, 
may  have  a  brother  deputed  to  do  that  rougher 
mouthing.  Following,  then,  the  sound,  we  pres- 
ently came  upon  the  source  of  sound,  the  Nach- 
chese.     ''-  "'''^'  '''  '  '  '•"'    '■"'  '    '  '-'  '■^'' ■'     ''■'^" 

Sky  and  stars  are  a  peaceful  shelter  over  a 
bivouac ;  yet  when  between  the  would-be  sleeper 
and  that  friendly  roof  there  is  a  tumultuous 
atmosphere  misbehaving  itself,  sleep  is  torn  up 
and  whirled  away  in  tatters.  We  must  have 
some  bulwark  against  the  level  sweep  of  tlie 
gale ;  and  must  pay  for  getting  it  by  -losing 
something  else.  Upon  the  bank  we  could  have 
a  bed  level  and  earthy,  but  wind-battered  ;  under 
the  bank  we  could  lie  sheltered,  but  must  lie  on 
pebbles.     On  pebble  boulders  we  must  make  our 


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THE   CANOE   AND   THE   SADDLE. 


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couch,  where  water  at  higher  stages  had  washed 
away  all  the  soft  packing  of  earth.    ,., 

We  left  the  horses  to  occupy  the  bank  above, 
where  they  could  sup  on  succulent  bunch-grass, 
firm  and  juicy  as  well-cured  hay.  Much  as  we 
regretted  abridging  their  freest  liberty  of  repose, 
we  were  obliged  to  hobble  them  lest  they  should 
go  with  the  wind  down  the  valley,  and  at  morn 
be  leagues  away.  If  a  man  wisiies  speed,  ho 
must  take  precautions  that  speed  do  not  fly  away 
from  him.  Civilization  without  its  appliances  is 
weaker  than  barbarism. 

No  gastronomic  facts  of  our  camp  below  the 
Nachchese ;  supper  was  much  lower  than  second- 
ary to  rest.  We  had  been  full  sixteen  difficult 
hours  in  the  saddle.  Nights  of  my  life,  not  a 
few,  have  been  wretched  in  feather  beds  for  too 
much  softness;  stern  hardness  was  to  be  the 
cause  of  other  misery  here.  This  night  cobble- 
stones must  be  my  bed,  a  boulder  pillow  for  my 
head.  My  couch  was  uneven  as  a  rippled  lake 
suddenly  congealed.  A  being  not  molluscous, 
but  humanly  bony,  and  muscular  over  bonyness, 
cannot  for  hours  beat  upon  pebbles  unbruised. 
So  I  had  a  night  of  weary  unrest.  The  wild 
rush  of  the  river  and  noise  of  the  gale  ran 
through  my  turbid  sleep  in  dreams  of  tramping 
battalions, : —  such  as  a  wounded  and  fevered 
man,  lying  unhelped  on  a  battle-field,  might 
dream.  \ 


Ye 

to  be  I 

of  th( 

not  tl 

one  m 

cobra 

invitin 

and    s 

and  th 

Consid 

having 

he  kno 

to  do,  a 

perienci 

sjmpatl 

with  th 

sleep,  \^ 

wasroa 


VIA   MALA. 


103 


Yet  let  us  always  be  just.  There  are  things 
to  be  said  in  behalf  of  cobble-stone  beds  by  rivers 
of  the  Northwest.  I  was  soft  to  the  rocks,  if 
not  they  to  me.  I  have  heard  of  regions  where 
one  may  find  that  he  slept  cheek  by  jowl  with  a 
cobra  di  capella.  These  are  absent  from  the  un- 
inviting bed  of  cobble-stones  by  the  Naohchese, 
and  so  are  mosquitos,  rattlesnakes,  burglars, 
and  the  cry  of  fire.  Negative  advantages  these. 
Consider  also  the  positive  good  to  a  man,  that, 
having  been  thoroughly  toughened  by  hardness, 
he  knows  what  the  body  of  him  is  strong  to  be, 
to  do,  and  to  suffer.  Furthermore,  one  after  ex- 
perience of  a  pummelling  couch,  like  this,  will 
sympathize  sufficiently,  and  yet  not  morbidly 
with  the  poor  bedless.  So  I  slept,  or  did  not 
sleep,  while  the  gale  roared  wildly  all  night,  and 
was  roaring  still  at  dawn. 


1 
i 


1 
i 


■?^.,  . 


X. 


r 

4«» 


it 


•Mi 

I 

•  - 

I  ■'' 

I 


I 


'I-. 


''^'4 


TREACHERY. 

People  cloddish,  stagnant,  and  mundane,  such 
as  most  of  us  are,  pretend  to  prefer  sunset  to 
sunrise,  just  as  we  fancy  the  past  greater  tlian 
the  present,  and  repose  nobler  than  action.  Few 
are  radical  enough  in  thought  to  perceive  the 
great  equalities  of  beauty  and  goodness  in  plie- 
nomena  of  nature  or  conditions  of  life.  Now  I 
saw  a  sunrise  after  my  night  by  the  Nachchese, 
whidi,  on  the  side  of  sunrise,  it  is  my  duty  to 
mention. 

Having  therefore  put  in  my  fact,  that  on  a 
morning  of  August,  in  the  latter  half  of  the  nine- 
teenth century,  sunrise  did  its  duty  with  splen- 
dor, I  have  also  done  my  duty  as  an  observer. 
The  simple  statement  of  a  fact  is  enough  for 
the  imaginative,  who  will  reprodiice  it  for  them- 
selves, according  to  their  experience ;  the  docile 
unimaginative  will  buy  alarm-clocks  and  study 
dawns.  Yet  I  give  a  few  coarse  details  as  a 
work  of  supererogation. 

If  I  had  slept  but  faintly,  the  cobble-stones  had  i 


kd 


TREACHERY. 


195 


me,  such 
iuiisct  to 
iter  Uiaii 
on.  Few 
ceive  the 
;s  in  phe- 
5.  Now  I 
achchese, 
y  duty  to 

that  on  a 
f  the  nine- 
nth  splen- 
observer, 
nough  for 
;  for  them- 
the  docile 
and  study' 
etails  as  a 


purrcyed  me  a  substitute  for  sleep  by  Immmer- 
iiig  me  senseless;  so  that  wLjU  the  chill  before 
dawn  smote  me,  and  I  became  conscious,  I  felt 
that  I  needed  consolation.     Consolation  came.    I 
saw  over  against  me,  across  the  river,  a  hill  blue 
as  hope,  and  seemingly  far  away  in  the  gray  dis- 
tance.    Light  flushed  upward  from  the  horizon, 
meeting  no  obstacles  of  cloud,  to  be  kindled  and 
burnt  away  into  white  ashiness.     Light  came  up 
the  valley  over  the  dark,  surging  hills.     Full  in 
the  teeth  of  the  gale  it  came,  strong  in  its  deli- 
cacy, surely  victonous,  as  a  fine  scymitar  against 
a  blundering  bludgeon.     Where  light  and  wind 
met  on  the  crest  of  an  earth-billow,  there  the 
grass  shook   like   glittering   spray.      Meanwhile 
the  hill  opposite  was  drawing  nearer,  and  all  the 
while   taking  a  fuller  blue.     Blue   passed   into 
deep  scintillating  purple,  rich  as  the  gold-pow- 
dered robe  of  an  Eastern  queen.      As  daylight 
grew  older,  it  was  strong  enough  to  paint  detail 
without  sacrificing  effect;  the  hill  took  its  place 
of  neighborhood,  upright  and  bold,  a  precipitous 
front  of  warm,  brown  basalt,  with  long  cavities, 
freshly  cleft,  where  prism«  had  fallen,  striping  the 
brown  with  yellow.     First  upon  the  summit  of 
this  cliff  the  sunbeams  alighted.     Thence  they 
pounced  upon  the  river,  and  were  whirled  along 
upon  its  breakers,  carrying  light  down  to  flood 
the  valley.     In  the  vigorous  atmosphere  of  so 


■••«:■ 
w 


•X. 


3 
1 
I 


I 


II 


#■■■■ 
I 


IT. 

•m 


196 


THE  CANOE  AND  THE  SADDLE. 


brilliant  a  daybreak  I  divined  none  of  the  diffi- 
culties that  were  before  sunset  to  befall  mc. 

By  this  wo  were  in  the  saddle,  following  tlio 
sunlight  rush  of  the  stream.  Stiffish,  after  pass- 
ing  the  night  hobbled,  were  the  steeds,  as  bruised 
after  boulder  beds  were  the  cavahers.  But  Loo- 
lowcan,  the  unimpassioned,  was  now  aroused. 
Here  was  the  range  of  his  nomad  life.  Any- 
where hereabouts  he  might  have  had  his  first 
practice-lessons  in  horse-stealing.  His  foot  was 
on  his  native  bunch-grass.  Those  ridges  far 
away  to  the  northeast  must  be  passed  to  reach 
Weenas.  Beyond  those  heights,  to  the  far  south, 
is  Atinam  and  "  Le  Play  House,"  the  mission. 
Thus  far  time  and  place  have  made  good  the 
description  of  the  eloquent  Owhhigh. 

Presently  in  a  small  plain  appeared  a  horse, 
hobbled  and  lone  as  a  loon  on  a  lake.  Have  we 
acquired  another  masterless  estray  ?  Not  so. 
Loolowcan  uttered  a  peculiar  trilobated  yelp,  and 
forth  from  an  ambush,  where  he  had  dodged, 
crept  the  shabbiest  man  in  the  world.  Shabby 
are  old-clo*  men  in  the  slums  of  Brummagem; 
shabbier  yet  are  Mormons  at  the  tail  of  an  emi- 
gration. But  among  the  seediest  ragamuffins 
in  the  most  unsavory  corners  I  have  known,  I 
find  no  object  that  can  compare  with  this  root- 
digging  Klickatat,  as  at  Loolowcan*s  signal-yelp 
be    crept    from   his    lair    among    the    willows. 


TREACHERY. 


197 


Qis  attiro  merits  attention  as  the  worst  in  tho 
world. 

Tlio  moccasins  of  Shabbiest  had  been  long  ago 
another's,  probably  many  another  Klickatat's. 
Many  a  cayoto  had  appropriated  them  after  they 
were  thrown  away  as  defunct,  and,  after  gnawing 
tliem  in  selfish  solit'ide,  every  euyote  had  turned 
away  unsatisfied  with  their  flavor.  Then  Shal)- 
bicst  stepped  forward,  and  claimed  the  treasure- 
trove.  He  must  have  had  a  decayed  ingenuity ; 
otherwise  how  with  thongs,  with  willow  twigs, 
with  wisps  of  grass  and  persistent  gripe  of  toe, 
did  ho  compel  those  tattered  footpads  to  remain 
among  his  adherents? 

Breeches  none  had  Shabbiest ;  Icggins  none  ; 
shirt  equally  none  to  speak  of.  But  a  coat  ho 
had,  and  one  of  many  colors. 

Days  before,  on  the  waters  of  Whulge,  I  had 
seen  a  sad  coat  on  the  back  of  that  rusty  and 
fuddled  chieftain,  the  Duke  of  York.  Nature 
gently  tempers  our  experience  to  us  as  we  are 
able  to  bear.  The  Duke's  coat  was  my  most  de- 
plorable vision  in  coats  until  its  epoch,  but  it  had 
educated  me  to  lower  possibilities.  Ages  ago, 
when  this  coat  was  a  new  and  liv(3ly  snuff-color, 
Garrick  was  on  the  stage.  Goldsmith  was  buying 
lus  ridiculous  peach-blossom,  in  shape  like  this, 
if  this  were  ever  shapely.  In  the  odors  that 
exhaled  from  it  there  seemed  an  under  stratum 


1 
f 


1! 


••II 


p 


198 


THE   CANOE  AND   THE  SADDLE. 


laei' 


m> 
w 


of  London  coffee-houses.  Who  knows  but  He 
ot  Bolt  Court,  slovenly  Ho  of  the  Dictionary, 
may  not  have  been  guilty  of  its  primal  grease- 
spot  ?  And  then  how  that  habiliment  became  of 
a  duller  snuff-color ;  how  grease-spots  oozed  each 
into  its  neighbor's  sphere  of  attraction  ;  how  one 
of  its  inheritors,  after  familiarizing  it  with  the 
gutter,  pawned  it  one  foggy  November  day,  when 
London  was  swallowing  cold  pea-soup  instead 
of  atmosphere ;  how,  the  pawner  never  coming 
to  redeem,  the  pawnee  sold  it  to  an  American 
prisoner  of  the  Revolution,  to  carry  home  with 
him  to  Boston,  his  native  village  ;  how  a  de- 
graded scion  of  the  family  became  the  cook 
of  Mr.  Astor's  ill-fated  ship,  the  Tonquin,  and 
swopped  it  with  a  Chinook  chief  for  four  otter- 
skins;  and  how  from  shabby  Chinook  to  shab- 
bier it  had  passed,  until  Shabbiest  got  it  at  last ; 
—  all  these  adventures,  every  eventful  scene  in 
this  historic  drama,  was  written  in  multiform 
inscription  all  over  this  time-stained  ruin,  so 
that  an  expert  observer  might  read  the  tale  as 
a  geologist  reads  eras  of  the  globe  in  a  slab 
of  fossiliferous  limestone.      ►  v   ;    .  t  v- 

Such  was  the  attire  of  Shabbiest,  and  as  such 
he  began  a  powwow  with  Loolowcan.  The 
compatriots  talked  emphatically,  with  the  dull 
impulsiveness,  the  calm  fury,  of  Indians.  I  saw 
that  I,  my  motions,  and  my  purposes  were  the 


TREACHERY. 


199 


Bubject  of  tlieir  discourse.      I^feanwhile  I  stood 
by,  somewhat  bored,  and  a  little  curious. 

At  last,  he  of  the  historical  coat  turned  to 
me,  and,  raising  his  arms,  one  sleeveleas,  one 
fringed  with  rags  at  the  shoulder,  delivered  at 
me  a  harangue,  in  the  most  jerky  and  broken 
Cliinook.  Given  in  broken  English,  correspond- 
ing, its  purport  was.  as  follows. 
Shabbiest  loquitur ^  in  a  naso-guttural  cltoke :  — 
"  What  you  white  man  want  get  'em  here  ? 
Why  him  no  stay  Boston  country  ?  Me  stay  my 
country  ;  no  ask  you  come  here.  Too  much 
soldier  man  go  all  round  everywhere.  Too 
much  make  pop-gun.  Him  say  kill  bird,  kill 
bear,  —  sometime  hirn  kill  Indian.  Soldier 
man  too  much  shut  eye,  open  eye  at  squaw. 
Squaw  no  like ;  s'pose  squaw  like,  Indian  man 
no  like  nohow.  Me  no  understand  white  man. 
Plenty  good  thing  him  country  ;  plenty  blanket ; 
plenty  gun  ;  plenty  powder ;  plenty  horse.  In- 
dian country  plenty  nothing.  No  good  Weenas 
give  you  horse.  No  good  Loolowcan  go  Dalles. 
Bad  Indian  there.  Small-pox  there.  Very 
much  all  bad.  Me  no  like  white  man  noliow. 
S'pose  go  away,  me  like.  Me  think  all  same 
pretty  fine  good.  You  big  chief,  got  plenty 
thing.  Indian  poor,  no  got  nothing.  Howdydo? 
Howdydo  ?  Want  swop  coat  ?  Want  swop 
horse  ?     S*pose  give  Indian  plenty  thing     Much 


1*1 


i 

3 


■I 


Si 


1 

I 

m 

I 


200 


THE  CANOE  AND  THE  SADDLE. 


mm)"' 


9 


i 


i 
I 


I 

.  * 

UK 


K«. 


good.     Much  ver>  big   good    great  chief  white 
man !  " 

"  Indignant  sagamore,"  replied  I,  in  mollify- 
ing tones,  "  you  do  indeed  misunderstand  us 
blanketeers.  We  come  hither  as  friends  for 
peace.  No  war  is  in  our  hearts,  but  kindly 
civilizing  influences.  If  you  resist,  you  must 
be  civilized  out  of  the  way.  We  should  regret 
your  removal  from  these  prairies  of  Weenas, 
for  we  do  not  see  where  in  the  world  you  can 
go  and  abide,  since  we  occupy  the  Pacific 
shore  and  barricade  you  from  free  drowning 
privileges.  Succumb  gracefully,  therefore,  to 
your  fate,  my  representative  redskin.  Do  not 
scowl  when  soldier  men,  searching  for  railroads, 
repose  their  seared  and  disappointed  eyeballs  by 
winking  at  your  squaws.  Do  not  long  for  pit- 
falls when  their  cavalry  plod  over  your  kamas 
swamps.  Believe  all  same  very  much  good. 
Howdydo  ?  Howdydo  ?  No  swop  !  I  cannot 
do  you  the  injustice  of  swopping  this  buckskin 
shirt  of  mine,  embroidered  with  porcupine- 
quills,  for  that  distinguished  garment  of  yours. 
Nor  horse  can  I  swop  in  fairness ;  mine  are 
weary  with  travel,  and  accustomed  for  a  few 
days  to  influences  of  mercy.  But,  as  a  memo- 
rial of  this  pleasant  interview  and  a  testimo- 
nial to  your  eloquent  speech,  I  should  be  com- 
plimented if  you  would  accept  a  couple  of 
charges  of  powder."  


\ 


TREACHERY. 


201 


And,  suiting  act  to  word,  I  poured  him  out 
powder,  which  he  received  in  a  buckskin  rag, 
and  concealed  in  some  shabby  den  of  his  his- 
toric coat.  Shabbiest  seemed  actually  grateful. 
Two  charges  of  powder  were  like  two  soup- 
tickets  to  a  starving  man,  —  two  dinners  inevi- 
tably, and  possibly,  according  to  the  size  of  his 
mark,  many  dinners,  were  in  that  black  dust. 
He  now  asked  to  see  my  six-shooter,  which 
Loolowcan  had  pointed  at  during  their  vernac- 
ular confidence.  He  examined  it  curiously, 
handling  it  with  some  apprehension,  as  a  bache- 
lor does  a  baby. 

"  Wake  nika  kumtun  ocook  tenas  musket. 
Pose  mika  mamook  po,  ikta  mika  memloose ;  — 
I  no  understand  that  little  musket.  Suppose  you 
make  shoot,  how  many  you  kill  ?  "  he  asked. 

"  Hin,  pose  moxt  tahtilum;  —  Many,  perhaps 
two  tens,"  I  said,  with  mild  confidence. 

This  was  evidently  impressive.  "  Hyas  ta- 
manoiis  ;  big  magic,"  said  both.  "  Wake  cultus 
ocook ;  no  trifler  that !  " 

We  parted,  Shabbiest  to  his  diggings,  we  to 
our  trail.  Hereupca  Loolowcan's  tone  changed 
more  and  more.  His  old  terrors,  real  or  pre- 
tended, awoke.  He  feared  the  Dalles.  It  was 
a  long  journey,  and  I  was  in  such  headlong 
haste.     And    how   could    he    return    from   the 

Dalles,  had  we  once  arrived?     Could  the  son 
8* 


1 
i 

si 


1 
I 


.a 


202 


THE  CANOE  AND  THE  SADDLE. 


-%m»» 


Mil. 


I 

4- 


I- 
I 

I 

...» 

Is 

t.. 

m 

mi 


i^. 


of  Owhhigh  foot  it  ?  Never  I  Would  I  give  bini 
a  horse  ? 

Obviously  not  at  all  would  I  give  a  horse  to 
the  new-fledged  dignitary,  I  informed  him,  cool- 
ing my  wrath  at  these  bulbous  indications  of 
treachery,  nurtured  by  the  talk  of  Shabbiest, 
and  ready  to  grow  into  a  full-blown  Judas-tree 
if  encouraged.  At  last,  by  way  of  incitement  to 
greater  diligence  in  procuring  fresh  horses  for 
me  from  the  bands  at  Weenas,  I  promised  to 
hire  one  for  liis  return  journey.  But  Loolow- 
can  the  Mistrusted,  watching  me  with  disloyal 
eyes  from  under  his  matted  hair^  became  doubly 
doubted  by  me  now. 

We  turned  northward,  clomb  a  long,  rough 
ridge,  and  viewed,  beyond,  a  valley  bare  and 
broad.  A  strip  of  cotton-wood  and  shrubs  in 
the  middle  announced  a  river,  Weenas.  This 
was  the  expected  locale;  would  the  personnel  be 
as  stationary  ?  Rivers,  as  it  pleases  nature,  may 
run  away  forever  without  escaping.  Camps  of 
nomad  Klickatats,  are  more  evasive.  The  people 
of  Owhhigh,  driving  the  horses  of  Owhhigh, 
might  have  decamped.  What  then,  Loolowcan, 
son  of  a  horse-thief?  Can  your  talents  aid  me 
in  substituting  a  fresher  for  Gubbins  drooping 
for  thy  maltreatment. 

Far  away  down  the  valley,  where  I  could  see 
them  only  as  one  sees  lost  Pleiads  with  tek 


\ 


TREACHERY. 


203 


gcopic  vision,  were  a  few  white  specks.  Surely 
the  tents  of  Boston  soldier  tilicum,  winkers  at 
squaws  and  tliorns  in  tiie  side  of  Shal>l>iest,  —  a 
rcriigo  if  need  l>e  tliere,  tliought  I.  Loolowcan 
turned  away  to  the  loft,  leading  me  into  tlio 
upiK^i  valley. 

Wo  soon  discovered  the  fact,  whatever  its 
future  worth  niiglit  be,  that  horses  were  feeding 
bulow.  Presently  a  couple  of  lodges  defined 
themselves  rustily  against  the  thici^ets  of  Wee- 
iias.  A  hundred  horses,  roans,  calicos,  sorrels, 
iron-grays,  blacks  and  whites,  were  ni[)ping  buncii- 
grass  on  the  plain.  My  weary  trio,  wearier 
tliis  hot  morning  for  the  traverse  of  the  burnt 
and  sh;jg«iy  ridge  alKjvo  Ween  as,  were  eidiv- 
enod  at  sigiit  of  tlicir  fellows,  and  sped  tow'ard 
them  companionubly.  But  the  wild  calvacade, 
tossing  disdainful  beads  and  neighing  loudly, 
das^hed  off  in  a  rattling  stampede ;  then  paused 
curiously  till  we  came  near,  and  then  were  off 
again,  the  lubberly  huddling  along  far  in  the 
rear  of  the  front  caracolers. 

We  dismounted,  and  tethered  our  wayfarers 
each  to  a  bush,  where  he  might  feed,  but  not 
fly  away  to  saddleless  freedom  with  the  wild 
prjirie  band.  We  entered  the  nearer  and  larger 
of  the  two  lodges. 

Worldlings,  whether  in  palaces  of  Cosmopo- 
lii>  or  lodges  of  th©  siwashes,   do  not  burn  iu- 


ii*>i . . 


11 


it 

3 


1 
i 


■m 


204 


THE  CANOE  AND  THE  SADDLE. 


•,r : 

•■Igtt.-  ^ 

■'^m  -* 

! 

■tr^ 

''IIAi. 

'4a»v  ' 

«»■■ 

«9i 

t 
f 
« 

I 

I 
I 
I 


I 

t 


WS' 


cense  before  the  absolute  stranger.  He  must 
first  establish  his  claims  to  attention.  No  one 
came  forth  from  the  lodges  to  greet  us.  No 
one  showed  any  sign  of  curiosity  or  welcome  as 
we  entered.  Squalid  were  these  huts  of  squalid 
tenancy.  Architecture  does  not  prevail  as  yet 
on  the  American  continent,  and  perhaps  less 
among  the  older  races  of  the  western  regions 
than  among  the  newer  comers  Bostonward. 
These  habitations  were  structures  of  roughly 
split  boards,  leaning  upon  a  ridge-pole. 

Five  foul  copper  heads  and  bodies  of  men 
lurked  among  the  plunder  of  that  noisome  spot. 
Several  squaws  were  searching  for  gray  hairs  in 
the  heads  of  several  children.  One  infant,  evi- 
dently malecontent,  was  being  flat-headed.  This 
fashionable  martyr  was  papoosed  in  a  tight- 
swathing  wicker-work  case.  A  broad  pad  of 
buckskin  compressed  its  facile  skull  and  brain 
beneath.  If  there  is  any  reason  why  the  North- 
west Indians  should  adopt  the  configuration  of 
idiots,  none  such  is  known  to  me.  A  roundhead 
Klickatat  woman  would  be  a  pariah.  The 
ruder  sex  are  not  quite  so  elaborately  beauti- 
fied, or  possibly  their  brains  assert  themselves 
more  actively  in  later  life  against  the  distortion 
of  childhood.  The  Weenas  papoose,  victim  of 
aboriginal  ideas  in  the  plastic  art,  was  hung  up 
in  a  corner  of  the  lodge,  and  but  for  the  blink- 


If-!: 


TREACHERY. 


205 


ing  of  its  beady  black  eyes,  almost  crowded 
out  of  its  head  by  the  tight  pad,  and  now  and 
then  a  feeble  howl  of  distress,  I  should  have 
thought  it  a  laughable  image,  the  pet  fetish  of 
tliese  shabby  devotees.  Sundry  mats,  blankets, 
skins,  and  dirty  miscellanies  furnished  this  popu- 
lous abode. 

Loolowcan  was  evidently  at  home  among  these 
compatriots,  frowzier  even  than  he.  He  squat- 
ted among  them,  sans  gSne,  and  lighted  his 
pipe.  One  of  the  ladies  did  the  honors,  and 
motioned  me  to  a  seat  upon  a  rusty  bear-skin. 
It  instantly  began  biting  me  virulently  through 
my  corduroys;  whereat  I  exchanged  it  for  a 
mat,  soon  equally  carnivorous.  Odors  very  vil- 
laiious  had  made  their  settlement  in  this  con- 
genial spot.  An  equine  fragrance  such  as  no 
essence  could  have  overcome,  pervaded  the  mas- 
culine group.  From  the  gynaeceum  came  a 
perfume,  hard  to  decipher,  until  I  bethought 
me  how  Governor  Ogden,  at  Fort  Vancouver 
of  the  Hudson's  Bay  Company,  with  a  cruelly 
waggish  wink  to  me,  had  persuaded  the  com- 
missary of  the  railroad  party  to  buy  twelve 
dozen  quarts  of  Macassar,  as  presents  for  the 
Indians. 

"  Fair  and  softly "  is  the  motto  of  a  siwash 
negotiation.  Why  should  they,  in  their  monoto- 
nous lives,  sacrifice  a  new  sensation  by  hurry? 


i 
i 

■fe 

n 

i 
1 

i 

m 


w 


206 


THE  CANOE  AND  THE  SADDLE. 


(^ 


•mum 

IP  I 


I 
I 
«  » 


If 


f  Ait  :*■ 


« 
I 


« 

£» 


m 


■  tt: 


The  five  copper-skins  "  first  eyed  me  over"  with 
luzy  thoroughness.  Tliey  noted  my  arms  and 
eqnl^^ment.  When  they  had  thus  taken  my 
measure  hy  the  eye,  they  appealed  to  my  guide 
fur  historiical  facts;  they  would  know  my  whence, 
my  whither,  my  wherefore,  and  his  share  in  my 
past  and  my  future. 

Loolowcan  droned  a  shiggish  tale,  to  whose 
points  of  interest  they  grunted  applause  between 
puffs  of  smoke.  Then  tliere  was  siflence  and  a 
tendency  toward  slumber  declared  itself  among 
them;  tiieir  minds  needed  repose  after  so  un- 
usual a  feast  of  ideas.  Here  1  protested.  I  ex- 
pressed my  enipliatic  surprise  to  Loolowcan,  that 
he  was  not  urgent  in  fulfilling  the  injunctions 
of  my  friend  the  mighty  Owhhigh,  and  his  own 
agreement  to  procure  horses.  Tlic  quadrupeds 
were  idle,  and  I  was  good  pay,  A  profitable 
bargain  was  possible.      *       .    , .;  % 

The  spol^esniun  of  the  party,  and  apparently 
owner  of  the  lodge  and  horses,  was  an  olyman 
siwash,  an  old  savage,  totally  unwashed  from 
boyhood  up,,  and  dressed  in  dirty  buckskin.  Loo- 
lowcan, in  response  to  my  injunctions,  appealed 
to  him.  Olyman  declined  expediting  me.  IIo 
would  not  lend,  nor  swop,  nor  sell  horses.  There 
was  no  mode  for  the  impartuig  of  horses,  tem- 
porarily or  permanently,  that  pleased  him.  His 
sentiments    on    the    subject   of  Boston    vieitois 


$ 


TREACHERY. 


207 


were  like  those  of  Sliabbiest.  All  my  persua- 
sions he  qualified  as  '*•  Cultus  wah  wah  ;  idle 
tulli."  Not  very  polite  are  thy  phrases,  Olymaii 
head  man  of  Stenchville  on  Weenas.  At  the 
same  time  he  and  the  four  in  chorus  proposed 
to  Loolowcan  to  abandon  me.  Olyman  alone 
talked  Chinook  jargon ;  the  other  four  sat,  in- 
volved in  their  dirty  cotton  shirts,  waiting  for 
interpretation,  and  purred  assent  or  dissent,, — 
yoa,  to  all  the  insolence  of  Olyman ;  nay,  to 
every  suggestion  of  mine.  Toward  me  and  my 
plans  the  meeting  was  evidently  sulky  and  iu- 
clement. 

Loolowcan,  however,  did  not  yet  desert  his 
colors.  He  made  the  supplementary  proposition 
that  Olyman  should  hire  us  a  sunipter  horse, 
oil  which  he  the  luxurious  Loolowcan,  disdainer 
of  pedestrians,  might  prance  back  from  the  far- 
away Dalles.  1  was  very  willing  on  any  con- 
ditions to  add  another  quadruped  to  my  trio. 
Tiiey  all  flagged  after  the  yesterday's  work,  and 
Gubbins  seemed  ready  to  fail. 

While  this  new  question  was  pending,  a  lady 
came  to  my  aid.  The  prettiest  and  wisest  of 
the  squaws  paused  in  her  researches,  and  came 
forward  to  join  the  council.  This  beauty  of 
the  Klickatats  thought  hiring  the  horse  an  ad- 
mirable scheme.  "  Loolowcan,"  said  she,  "  can 
take    tlm    consideration-money,    and    buy    mo 


..»r 


INK 


1 


1 
I 


208 


THE  CANOE  AND  THE  SADDLE. 


*m 


I 

t 
I 

I 

r 

IX 


* 


-Nft 


*ikta,'  what  not,  at  the  Dalles."  This  sug 
gostioii  of  the  Light  of  the  Harem  touched  Oly- 
man.  He  rose,  and  commanded  the  assistance 
of  the  shirt-clad  quartette.  They  loungingly  sur- 
rounded the  band  of  horses,  and  with  whoops 
and  throwing  of  stones  drove  them  into  a  corral, 
near  the  lodges.  Olyman  then  produced  a  hide 
lasso,  and  tossed  its  loop  over  the  head  of  a 
roan,  the  stereoscopic  counterpart  of  Gubbins. 

Meantime  Loolowcan  had  driven  up  my  horses. 
I  ordered  him  to  tie  Antipodes  and  Gubbins 
together  by  the  head,  with  my  long  hide  lariat. 
The  manner  of  all  the  Indians  was  so  intolera- 
bly insolent,  that  I  still  expected  trouble.  My 
cavalry,  I  resolved,  should  be  well  in  hand. 
I  flung  the  bight  of  the  lariat  with  a  double 
turn  over  the  horn  of  my  saddle  and  held  Klale, 
my  quiet  friend,  by  his  bridle.  My  three  horses 
were  thus  under  complete  control. 

The  roan  was  brought  forward  But  again 
an  evil  genius  among  the  Indians  interfered, 
and  growled  a  few  poisonous  words  into  the 
ear  of  Olyman.  Olyman  doubled  his  demand 
for  his  horse.  I  refused  to  be  imposed  upon, 
with  an  incautious  expression  of  opinion  on  the 
subject.  The  Indians  talked  with  ferocious  ani- 
mation for  a  moment,  and  then  retired  to  the 
lodge.  The  women  and  children  who  had  been 
spectators  immediately  in  a  body  marched  off, 


TREACHERY. 


209 


And  disappeared  in  the  thickets.  Ladies  do  not 
leave  the  field  when  amicable  entertainment  is 
on  the  cards. 

But  why  should  I  tarry  after  negotiation  had 
failed  ?  I  ordered  Loolowcan  to  mount  and 
lead  the  way.  He  said  nothing,  but  stood  look- 
ing at  me,  as  if  I  were  another  and  not  my- 
self, his  recent  friend  and  comrade.  There  was 
a  new  cast  of  expression  in  his  dusky  eyes. 

At  this  moment  the  Indians  came  forth  from 
the  lodge.  They  came  along  in  a  careless, 
lounging  way,  but  every  ragamuffin  was  armed. 
Tiiree  had  long  single-barrel  guns  of  the  In- 
dian pattern.  One  bore  a  bow  and  arrows. 
The  fifth  carried  a  knife,  half  concealed,  and, 
as  he  came  near,  slipped  another  furtively  into 
the  hand  of  Loolowcan. 

What  next  ?  A  fight  ?  Or  a  second  sham- 
fight,  like  that  of  Whulge  ? 

I  stood  with  my  back  to  a  bush,  with  my  gun 
leaning  against  my  left  arm,  where  my  bridle 
hung;  my  bowie-knife  was  within  convenient 
reach,  and  I  amused  myself  during  these  in- 
stants of  expectancy  by  abstractedly  turning 
over  the  cylinder  of  my  revolver.  "  Another  ad- 
venture," I  thought,  "  where  this  compact  ma- 
chine will  be  available  to  prevent  or  punish.** 

Loolowcan  now  stepped  forward,  and  made 
me  a  brief,  neat  speech,  full  of  facts.    Meanwhile 


1 
i 


-'« 
'J 

I 
1 
i 

m 


210 


THE  CANOE  AND  THE  SADDLE. 


•c: 


la 


I    : 

I 
i 


I 
i 
1^ 

I 

am 

t 
t 


I& 


those  five  coppcr-lieads  watched  me,  a8  I  have 
seen  a  coterie  of  wolves,  squatted  just  out  of 
reach,  watch  a  wounded  buffalo,  wlio  made 
front  to  them.  There  was  not  a  word  in  Loo- 
lowcau's  speech  about  the  Great  Spirit,  or  his 
Great  Father,  or  the  ancient  wrongs  of  the  red 
man,  or  the  hunting-grounds  of  the  blest,  or 
fire-water,  or  the  pipe  of  peace.  Nor  was  the 
manner  of  his  oration  lofty,  proud,  and  cliief- 
tainly,  as  might  befit  the  son  of  Owhhigh.  Loo- 
lowcan  spoke  like  an  insolent  varlet,  ready  to 
be  worse  than  insolent,  and  this  was  the  burden 
of  his  lay. 

"  Wake  nika  klatawah  copa  Dalles ;  I  won't 
go  to  Dalles.  Nika  mitlite  Weenas ;  I  stay 
Weenas.  Alta  mika  payee  nika  chickamin  pe 
ikta;  now  you  pay  me  my  money  and  things." 

This  was  the  result  then,  —  my  plan  shot 
dead,  my  confidence  betrayed.  This  frowzy 
liar  asking  me  payment  for  his  treachery,  and 
backing  his  demand  with  knives  and  guns! 

Wrath  mastered  me.     Prudence  fled, 

I  made  my  brief  rejoinder  speech,  thrusting 
into  it  all  the  billingsgate  I  knew.  My  pliilippic 
ran  thus:  —   -  •' 

^^  Kamooks,  mika  klimminwhet ;  dog,  you  have 
lied.  Cultus  siwash,  wake  Owhhigh  tenas;  pal- 
try savage,  no  son  of  Owhhigh  I  Kallapooya; 
a.  Kallapooya  Indian,,  a  groveller.      Skudzilai 


\ 


TRKACIIKRY. 


211 


moot;  a  nasty  varmint,  Tonas  mika  turn  kiim; 
cowardly  is  thy  heart.  Quash  itlatawali  copa 
Dalles;  afraid  to  go  to  Dalles.  Nika  mamook 
paper  copa  squally  tyee  pe  spose  mika  chaco 
yaquah  yaka  skookoom  mamook  stick;  I  shall 
write  a  paper  to  the  master  of  Ni^qually  (if  I 
over  get  out  of  this),  and  suppose  you  go  there, 
he  will  lustily  apply  the  rod." 

Loolowcan  winced  at  portions  of  this  dis- 
course. He  seemed  ready  to  pounce  upon  me 
with  the  knife  he  grasped. 

And  now  as  to  pay,  ^*  Hyas  pultin  mika ;  a 
great  fool  art  tlK)u,  to  suppose  that  I  can  be 
bullied  into  paying  thee  for  bringhig  me  out 
of  my  way  to  desert  me.     No  go,  no  pay." 

"  Wake  nika  memloose ;  I  no  die  for  the 
lack  of  it,"  said  Loolowcan,  with  an  air  of  un- 
approachable insolence.  / 

Having  uttered  my  farewell,  I  waited  to  see 
what  these  filthy  braves  would  do,  after  their 
scowling  looks  and  threatening  gestures.  K 
battle  comes,  thou,  0  Loolowcan,  wilt  surely  go 
to  some  hunting-grounds  in  the  other  world, 
whether  blest  or  curst*  Thou  at  least  never 
slialt  ride  Gubbins  as  master ;  never  wallop  An- 
tipodes as  brutal  master;  nor  in  murderous 
revelry  devour  the  relics  of  my  pork,  my  hard- 
tack, and  my  tongues.  It  will  be  hard  if  I, 
with  eight  shots  and   a  slasher,   cannot  make 


**» 


I 


'» 

3 
1 
i 


•^ 


w 


212 


THE  CANOE  AND  THE  SADDLE. 


ir* 


t 


s 

m 


sure  of  thee  to  dance  before  me,  as  guide,  down 
the  defiles  of  purgatory. 

There  was  an  awkward  pause.  All  the  apro* 
pos  remarks  had  been  made.  The  spokesmen 
of  civilization  and  barbarism  had  each  had  their 
say.  Action  rather  halted.  No  one  was  willing 
to  take  the  initiative.  Whether  the  Stench- 
villians  proposed  to  attack  or  not,  they  certainly 
would  not  do  it  while  I  was  so  thoroughly  on  my 
guard.  Colonel  Colt,  quiet  as  he  looked,  rep- 
resented to  them  an  indefinite  slaughter  power. 

I  must  myself  make  the  move.  I  threw  Klale's 
bridle  over  his  neck,  and,  grasping  the  horn,  swung 
myself  into  the  saddle,  as  well  as  I  could  with 
gun  in  one  hand  and  pistol  in  the  other. 

The  Klickatats  closed  in.  One  laid  hold  of 
Antipodes.  The  vicious-looking  Mephistoplii- 
les  with  the  knife  leaped  to  Klale's  head  and 
made  a  clutch  at  the  rein.  But  Colonel  Colt, 
with  Cyclopean  eyeball,  was  looking  him  full  in 
the  face.  He  dropped  the  bridle,  and  fell  back 
a  step.  I  dug  both  spurs  into  Klale  with  a  yell. 
Antipodes  whirled  and  lashed  at  his  assailant 
with  dangerous  hoofs.  Gubbins  started.  Klale 
reared  and  bolted  forward.  ^  : 

We  had  scattered  the  attacking  party,  and 
were  off.  ,    . 


XI. 


KAMAIAKAN. 

Towing  a  horse  on  each  side,  by  a  rope  turned 
about  my  saddle-horn,  I  moved  but  slowly.  For 
a  hundred  yards  I  felt  a  premonitory  itching 
in  my  spine,  as  if  of  arrow  in  the  marrow.  I 
would  not  deign  to  turn.  If  vis  a  tergo  came, 
I  should  discover  it  soon  enough.  I  felt  no 
inclination  to  see  anything  more  of  any  In- 
dians, ever,  anywhere.  I  was  in  raging  wrath ; 
too  angry  as  yet  to  be  at  a  loss  for  the  future ; 
too  furious  to  despond. 

Whatever  might  now  befall,  I  was  at  least 
free  of  Loolowcan  the  Frowzy.  As  to  mutual 
benefit,  we  were  nearly  quits.  He  had  had  from 
me  a  journey  home  and  several  days  of  ban- 
queting: I  from  him  guidance  hither.  He  had 
at  last  deserted  me,  shabbily,  with  assassina- 
tion in  his  wishes ;  but  I  had  not  paid  him, 
had  vilipended  him,  and  taken  myself  oflF  un- 
harmed. Withal  I  was  disappointed.  My  type 
Indian,  one  in  the  close  relations  of  comrade, 
had  failed  me.     It  is  a  bitter  thinsr  to  a  man 


9 


IB 

3 
1 


IS;    -I 


t3> 


214 


THE  CANOE  AND  THE  SADDLE. 


^2 

If* 

"1» 


It 


il 


Ift 


4181 

4m 

I 
I 

«^ 

I 

«  < 


I: 


I 


to  find  that  he  has  thrown  away  even  a  minor 
measure  of  friendship  or  love  upon  a  meaner 
nature.  I  could  see  what  the  traitor  influences 
were,  but  why  could  he  not  resist,  and  be  plucky, 
honorable,  and  a  fine  fellovv?  Why  cannot  all 
the  pitiful  be  noble  ? 

What  saved  me  from  massacre  by  the  citizens 
of  Weenas  was  not,  I  suppose,  my  six-shooter, 
not  my  double-barrel,  not  my  bowie,  —  though 
each  had  its  influence  on  the  minds  of  Indians, 
-  but  tlie  neighborhood  of  the  exploring  camp. 
Much  as  Shabbiest  and  Olyman  disliked  these 
intruders,  they  feared  them  more.  Loolowcan 
also  felt  that  he  was  responsible  for  my  safety, 
and  that,  if  I  disappeared,  some  one  would  ask 
him  the  inevitable  question,  where  he  had  put 
me-  The  explorers,  not  having  had  much  suc- 
cess in  finding  a  railroad,  would  be  entertained 
with  an  opportunity  for  other  researches.  Yet 
the  temptation  to  six  liiwashes  to  butcher  one 
Boston  man,  owner  of  three  passable  horses  and 
valuable  travelling  gear,  is  so  great,  and  siwash 
power  to  resist  present  temptation  so  small,  that 
I  no  doubt  owed  something  to  my  armament, 
and  something  to  my  evident  intentioA  to  use  it. 

I  now  made  for  the  exploring  camp  as  best 
I  miglit.  Gubbins  and  Antipodes  were  disposed 
to  be  centrifugal,  and,  as  I  did  not  wish  to 
weary  Klale  with  pursuits,  I  held  to  my  plan 


ip||. 


B 


KAMAIAKAN. 


215 


of  towing  the  refractory  steeds.  At  times  the 
two  would  tug  their  lengths  of  rope  isosceles, 
and  m-eet  for  biting  each  other.  Wheu  this 
happen<jd,  I,  seated  just  beliind  the  apex  of  tlie 
triangle,  was  welluigh  sawed  in  twain  by  the 
closing  sides.  After  such  encounter.  Antipodes 
would  perhaps  lurch  ahead  violently,  while  Gub- 
bins,  limping  from  a  kick,  would  be  a  laggard. 
Klale  would  thus  become  the  point  where  two 
irregular  arms  of  a  diagonal  met,  and  would 
be  sorely  unsteadied,  as  are  tliose  who  strive 
to  hold  even  control  between  opponent  forces. 

Thus  I  jerked  along,  sometimes  tugging,  some- 
times tugged,  until  I  discerned  a  distant  flicker 
in  the  air,  which  soon  defined  itself  as  the 
American  flag,  and  through  the  underwood  I 
saw  tiie  tents  of  tlie  exploring  party,  a  wel- 
come refuge. 

I  was  tired,  hot,  excited,  and  hateful,  disgusted 
with  Indians  and  horses,  and  fast  losing  my 
faitli  in  everything;  tlierefore  the  shelter  of  a 
shady  tent  was  calming,  and  so  was  the  pleasant 
placidity  of  the  scenie  within.  Lieutenant  M. 
was  reclining  witliin,  buying  of  a  not  uncleanly 
Indian  long,  neat  potatoes  and  a  silver  salmon.. 
Dewiness  of  his  late  bath  in  the  melted  snows 
of  the  Weenas  sparkled  still  on  the  bright  scales 
of  the  fish.  It  was  a  tranquillizing  spectacle 
•■^r  the  rough  travel  and  offensive  eucouuters 


:fm 


^1 


^%?1'- 


>        i 
1 

i 

m 


;     ■    ■•3 


'W 


216 


THE  CANOE  AND  THE  SADDLE. 


■it  ^' 


fif 
Mm 
I 

I 


r 
I 


of  the  day.  Almost  too  attractive  to  a  man 
who,  after  a  few  moments  of  this  comparatively 
Sybaritic  dalliance,  must  renew,  and  now  alone, 
his  journey,  fed  with  musty  hard-tack,  and  must 
again  whip  tired  nags  over  plains  bristling  with 
wild  sage,  and  over  the  aggravating  backbones 
of  the  earth. 

The  camp  could  give  me,  as  it  did,  a  hos- 
pitable meal  of  soldiers'  fare ;  but,  with  friendli- 
est intentions,  the  camp  could  do  little  to  speed 
me.  It  could  advise  me  that  to  launch  out  uu- 
guided  into  the  unknown  is  perilous;  but  I 
was  resolved  not  to  be  baffled.  Le  Play  House, 
the  mission  where  Loolowcan  should  have  guided 
me  in  the  morning,  was  somewhere.  I  could 
find  it,  and  ask  Christian  aid  there.  The  priests 
would  probably  have  Indian  retainers,  and  one 
of  these  would  be  a  safer  substitute  for  my 
deserter.  I  would  not  prognosticate  failure; 
enough  to  meet  it  if  it  come. 

Le  Play  House  is  on  the  Atinam,  twenty  miles 
in  a  bee-line  from  camp.  Were  one  but  a  bee, 
here  would  be  a  pleasant  flight  this  summer's 
afternoon.  But  how  to  surely  trace  this  imagi- 
nary route  across  pathlessness,  over  twenty  miles 
of  waste,  across  two  ranges  of  high  scorched 
hills  ?  Two  young  Indians,  loungers  about  the 
camp,  offered  to  conduct  me  for  a  shirt.  Cheap, 
but  inadmissible;   I   am   not  now,  my  young 


KAMAIAKAN. 


217 


shirtless,  in  the  mood  for  lavishing  a  shirt  of 
civilization  on  any  of  the  siwash  race.  Too 
recent  are  the  injuries  and  insults  of  Loolow- 
caii  and  the  men  of  Stenchville.  I  am  still  in 
an  imprudent  rage.  I  rashly  scorn  the  help 
of  aborigines.  Tliereaway  is  Atinam,  —  I  will 
ride  thither  alone  this  pleasant  afternoon  of 
summer. 

I  could  not  fitly  ask  the  fusillade  for  Loolow- 
can,  Olyman,  and  his  gang.  Their  action  had 
been  too  incomplete  for  punishment  so  final.  I 
requested  Lieutenant  M.  to  mamook  stick  upon 
my  ex-comrade  should  he  present  himself.  I  fear 
that  the  traitor  escaped  unpunished,  perhaps  to 
occupy  himself  in  scalping  my  countrymen  in 
the  late  war.  Owhhigh  in  that  war  was  un- 
reasonably hung ;  there  are  worse  fellows  than 
Owhhigh,  in  cleaner  circles,  unhung,  and  not 
even  sent  to  Coventry.  '  ^    .  ;  r 

Before  parting,  Lieutenant  M.  and  I  exchanged 
presents  of  our  most  precious  objects,  after  the 
manner  of  the  Homeric  heroes.  Hardshell  re- 
mainder biscuits  he  gave,  jaw-breakers,  and 
tough  as  a  pine-knot,  but  more  grateful  than  my 
hard-tack,  well  sprouted  after  its  irrigation  by 
the  S'kamish.  I  bestowed,  in  return,  two  of  my 
salted  tongues,  bitter  as  the  maxims  of  La  Roche- 
foucauld. 

Gubbins  and  Antipodes  were  foes  irreconcila- 

10 


.j«i» 


1  i 


1 
i 


218 


THE  CANOE  AND  THE  SADDLE. 


sa 

iti. .. 
•A  «t 

if-" 


«9 

I 

«  < 


I 

i 
I 

I 


1^ 


ble,  —  a  fact  of  immense  value.  Therefore,  thai 
iliey  might  travel  with  less  expense  of  scamper 
to  me,  I  tied  their  heads  together.  I  felt,  and 
so  it  proved,  that,  whenever  Antipodes  begged  to 
pause  and  feed,  Gubbins  would  be  impelled  to 
keep  up  a  steady  jog-trot,  and  whenever  Gubbins 
wished  to  inspect  a  tuft  of  bunch-grass  to  the 
right,  his  companion  would  stolidly  decline  com- 
pliance, and  plod  faithfully  along  the  ideal  bee- 
line.  There  must  be  no  discursiveness  in  my 
troop  henceforth. 

Then  I  resolutely  said  adieu  to  the  friendly 
camp,  and,  pointing  my  train  for  a  defile  in  the 
hard  hills  upon  the  southern  horizon,  started,  not 
very  gayly,  and  very  lonely.  We  did  not  droop, 
horses  or  man,  but  the  visionary  Hope  that  wont 
before  was  weak  in  the  knees,  and  no  longer 
bounded  gallantly,  beckoning  us  onward.  The 
two  light-loaded  horses,  in  their  leash,  were 
rarely  unanimous  to  halt,  but  their  want  of  har- 
mony often  interfered  with  progress,  and  Owh- 
high*s  whip  must  often  whirr  about  their  flanks, 
hinting  to  them  not  to  be  too  unbrotherly.  Toil- 
ing thus  doggedly  on  over  the  dry  levels  and 
rolling  sweeps  of  prairie,  Klale  and  I  grew  weary 
with  the  remorseless  sunshine,  and  our  responsi- 
bility of  the  march. 

As  I  rounded  a  hillock,  two  horsemen,  gallop- 
ing toward  me,  drew  up  at  a  hundred  yards  to 


KAMAIAKAN. 


219 


ore,  that 
scamper 
felt,  and 
>egged  to 
pelled  to 
Gubbius 
58  to  the 
line  corn- 
ideal  bec- 
iss  ill  my 

e  friendly 
jfile  in  the 
tarted,  not 
not  droop, 
that  went 
no  longer 
ard.     The 
jash,  were 
ant  of  bar- 
and  Owh- 
leir  flanks, 
rly.    Toil- 
levels  and 
rrew  weary 
ir  responsi- 


reconnoitre.  One  of  them  immediately  rode  for- 
ward. What  familiar  scarecrow  is  this  ?  By 
that  Joseph  coat  I  recognize  him.  It  is  Sliabbi- 
est,  pleased  evidently  to  see  that  Loolowcan  has 
taken  his  advice,  and  I  am  departing  alone. 

*'  Kla  hy  yah  ?  Howdydo  ?  "  said  the  old  man, 
"  Whitlier  now,  0  Boston  tyce  ?  '* 

"  To  Le  Play  House,"  answered  I,  short  and 
sour,  feeling  no  affinity  for  this  rusty  person,  the 
first  beguiler  of  my  treacherous  guide. 

"  Not  the  hooihut,"  said  he.  "  Nanitch  ocook 
polealy  ;  behold  this  powder,'* — the  powder  I 
bad  given  him.  For  this  gift,  within  his  greasy 
garb  there  beat  a  grateful  heart,  or  possibly  a 
heart  expectant  of  more,  and  he  volunteered  to 
guide  me  a  little  way  into  the  trail.  Moral :  al- 
ways give  a  testimonial  to  dreary  old  grumblers 
hi  ole  clo',  when  you  meet  them  in  the  jolly 
morning,  —  possibly  they  may  requite  you  when 
you  meet  at  sulky  eve. 

First,  Shabbiest  must  ask  permission  of  his 
companion.  "  My  master,"  he  said  ;  "  I  am  ela- 
ita,  a  slave."  The  master,  a  big,  bold  Indian  of 
Owlihigh  type,  in  clothes  only  second-hand,  gave 
him  free  permission.  The  old  man's  servitude 
was  light. 

Shabbiest  led  off  on  his  shambler  in  quite 
another  direction  from  mine,  and  more  south- 
f^rly.    After  a  mile  or  so  we  climbed  a  steep  hill, 


**         S3- 


"B 


I 
i 

m 


It 


220 


THE  CANOE  AND  THE  SADDLE. 


m 


It: 

lit;  a, 
in 


e^ 


whence  I  could  see  the  Nachchese  again.  I  sa?? 
also  behind  me  a  great  column  of  dust,  and  from 
it  anon  two  galloping  riders  making  for  us. 

They  dashed  up, — tlie  same  two  youths  who  at 
camp  had  offered  to  guide  me  to  Le  Play  House 
for  a  shirt.  I  was  humbler  now  than  when  I  re- 
fused them  before  noon,  having  over-confidence 
in  myself  and  my  power  of  tracing  bee-lines. 
We  must,  perhaps,  be  lost  in  our  younker  and 
prodigal  periods,  before  our  noon,  that  we  may 
be  tauglit  respect  for  experience,  and  believe  in 
co-operation  of  brother-men.  ' 

Now,  I  possessed  two  shirts  of  faded  blue-check 
calico,  and  was  important  among  savages  for 
Buch  possession.  One  of  these,  much  bedimmed 
with  dust,  at  present  bedecked  my  person,— 
buckskin  laid  aside  for  the  heat.  There  was  no 
washerwoman  within  many  degrees  of  latitude 
and  longitude,  —  none  probably  between  the  Cas- 
cades and  the  Rockys.  Why  not,  then,  disem- 
barrass myself  of  a  valueless  article,  —  a  shirt 
properly  hors  du  combat,  —  if  by  its  aid  I  miglit 
win  to  guide  me  two  young  rovers,  ambitious  of 
so  much  distinction  on  their  Boulevards  as  a 
checked  calico  could  confer?  ■    '^ 

Young  gallopers,  the  shirt  is  yours.  Ho  for 
Le  Play  House ! 

Adieu,  Shabbiest,  unexpected  re-enterer  on 
tlds  scene !    Thy  gratitude  for  two  charges  of 


\ 


KAMAIAKAN. 


221 


jre  was  no 


powder  puts  a  fact  on  the  merit  side  of  my 
book  of  Indian  character.  Receive  now,  with 
my  thanks,  this  my  last  spare  dhudcen,  and  this 
ounce  of  pigtail,  and  take  away  thyself  and  thy 
odorous  coat  from  between  the  wind  and  me. 
Shabbiest  rode  after  his  master. 

Everything  now  revived.  Horses  and  men 
grew  confident,  and  Hope,  late  feeble  in  the 
knees,  now  with  braced  muscles  went  turning 
somersets  of  joy  before  us.  Antipodes  and  Gub- 
bins,  unleashed,  were  hurried  along  by  the  whoops 
and  whips  of  my  younker  guides ;  and  Klale, 
relieved  of  responsibility,  and  inspired  by  gay 
companions,  became  sprightly  and  tricksy.  Sud- 
den change  had  befallen  my  prospects,  lately 
dreary.  Shabbiest  had  come  as  forerunner  of 
good  fortune.  Then,  speeding  after  him,  ap- 
peared my  twin  deliverers,  guiding  me  for  the 
low  price  of  a  shirt  totally  buttonless. 

It  was  worth  a  shirt,  nay,  shirts,  merely  to  be 
escorted  by  these  graceful  centaurs.  No  saddle 
intervened  between  them  and  their  horses.  No 
stirrup  compelled  their  legs.  A  liair  rope  twisted 
around  the  mustang's  lower  lip  was  their  only 
horse  furniture.  "  Owhhigh  tenas,"  one  of  Owh- 
high's  boys,  the  younger  claimed  to  be.  Nowhere 
have  I  seen  a  more  beautiful  youth.  He  rode 
hke  an  Elgin  marble.  A  circlet  of  otter  fur 
plumed  with  an  eagle's  feather   crowned  him. 


ISf, 


f 


urns 


jt-ffl 


■■<  •« 


I'Ti 


.'.'J 


r 


Ill 


222 


THE  CANOE  AND  THE  SADDLE. 


mm 

11 

ilk 


I 


I 

'It 

f 


e 

UK- 


His  forehead  was  hardly  perceptibly  flattened, 
and  his  expression  was  honest  and  merry,  not 
like  the  sombre,  suspicious  visage  of  Loolowcan, 
disciple  of  Talipus. 

Neither  of  my  new  friends  would  give  me  his 
name.  After  coquetting  awhile,  they  pretended 
that  to  tell  me  would  be  tamanoiis  of  ill  omen, 
and  begged  me  to  give  them  pasaiooks'  names. 
So  I  received  them  into  civilization  under  tho 
titles  of  Prince  and  Poins.  These  they  meta- 
morphosed into  U'plint'z  and  K'pawint'z,  and 
shouted  their  new  appellatives  at  each  other  in 
glee  as  they  galloped.  Prince,  my  new  Adonis, 
like  Poins,  his  admiring  and  stupid  comrad.),  was 
dressed  only  in  hickory  shirt  of  the  Hudson's 
Bay  Company  and  some  nondescript  raggedness 
for  leggins.  Deer  are  not  abundant  in  this  arid 
region,  and  buckskin  raiment  is  a  luxury  for 
chiefs. 

With  these  companions,  the  journey,  just  now 
dismal,  became  a  lark.  Over  the  levels  the  horses 
dashed  freshly,  —  mine  as  if  they  wished  to  show 
how  much  I  had  undervalued  their  bottom,  and 
how  needless  had  been  my  docour,  under  my 
false  leader,  to  exchange  these  trusty  and  tried 
fellow-travellers  for  unknown  substitutes.  Over 
the  levels  they  dashed,  and  stout  of  heart,  though 
not  quite  so  gayly,  they  clambered  the  hills  Mac- 
adamized with  pebbles  of  trap. 


KAMAIAKAN. 


I 


Antipodes,  loping  in  tlio  lead,  suddenly  sliied 
wildly  away  from  a  small  rattlesnake  coiled  in 
the  track.  The  little  stranger  did  not  wait  for 
our  assault.  He  glided  away  into  a  thick  bush, 
where  he  stood  on  the  defensive,  brandishing  his 
tongue,  and  eying  us  with  two  flames.  Uis  tail 
meanwhile  recited  cruel  anathemas,  with  a  harsh, 
rapid  burr.  Ho  was  safe  from  assault  of  stick  or 
stone,  and  I  was  about  to  call  in  my  old  defender, 
the  revolver,  when  Uplintz  prayed  me  to  pause. 
I  gave  him  the  field,  while  Kpawintz  stood  by, 
chuckling  with  delight  at  the  ingenuity  of  his 
friend  and  hero. 

Uplintz  took  from  a  buckskin  pouch  at  his  belt 
his  pipe,  and,  loosening  from  the  bowl  its  slender 
reed  stem,  he  passed  through  it  a  stiff  spire  of 
huncli-grass.  A  little  oil  of  tobacco  adhered  to 
the  point.  He  approached  the  bush  carefully, 
and  held  the  nicotinized  straw  a  foot  from  the 
rattlesnake's  nose.  At  once,  from  a  noisy,  threat- 
ening snake,  tremulous  with  terror  and  rage 
from  quivering  fang  to  quivering  rattle,  —  a 
snake  writhing  venomously  all  along  its  black 
and  yellow  ugliness,  —  it  became  a  pacified  snake, 
watchful,  but  not  wrathful. 

Uplintz,  charmer  of  reptiles,  proceeded  with 
judicious  coolness.  Imperceptibly  he  advanced 
his  wand  of  enchantment  nearer  and  nearer. 
Rattler  perceived  the  potent  influence,  and  rat- 


H 
I 

.1 


■•■• 

a 
1 

I 


-mf 


224 


THE  CANOE  AND  THE  SADDLE. 


■m. 

1 
m 

If 

« 

Ik 


E 


K 


I: 
i' 

I 


t 

m 


tied  no  more.  The  vixenish  twang  ceased  at  one 
end  of  him ;  at  the  other,  his  tongue  became  gently 
himhent.  The  narcotic  javelin  approached,  and 
finally  touched  his  head.  He  was  a  lulled  and 
vanquihhed  rattlesnake.  lie  followed  the  magic 
sceptre,  as  Uplintz  withdrew  it,  —  a  very  drunk- 
en serpent  "  rolled  to  starboard,  rolled  to  lar- 
board," staggering  with  the  air  of  a  languidly 
contented  inebriate.  Ho  swayed  feebly  out  upon 
the  path,  and  squirmed  there,  while  the  charmer 
tickled  his  nose  with  the  pleasant  opiate,  his  rat- 
tles uttering  mild  plaudits. 

At  last  Kpawintz,  the  stolid,  whipping  out  a 
knife,  suddenly  decapitated  our  disarmed  play- 
thing, and  bagged  the  carcass  for  supper,  with 
triumphant  guffaws.  Kpawintz  enjoyed  his  so- 
lution of  the  matter  Imgely,  and  acted  over  the 
motions  of  the  snake,  laughing  loudly  as  he  did 
so,  and  exhibiting  his  tidbit  trophy. 

We  liad  long  ago  splashed  across  the  Nach- 
chese.  The  sun,  nearing  the  western  hills,  made 
every  opening  valley  now  a  brilliant  vista. 
The  rattlesnake  had  died  just  on  the  edge  of 
the  Atinam  ridges,  and  Kpawintz  was  still  bran- 
dishing his  yellow  and  black  prey,  and  snapping 
the  rattle  about  the  flanks  of  his  wincing  roan, 
when  Uplintz  called  me  to  look  with  him  up 
into  the  streaming  sunshine,  and  see  Le  Play 
House.    .    ,;,M-.,.-v  .  ■•  .-     ■  M'  . ..:   *'•.;-••/::..•■ 


KAMAIAKAN. 


225 


A  strange  and  unlovely  spot  for  religion  to 
have  chosen  for  its  homo  of  influence.  It 
needed  all  the  transfiguring  power  of  sunset 
to  make  this  desolate  scene  endurable.  Even 
sunset,  iongtliening  the  shadow  of  every  blade 
of  grass,  could  not  create  a  mirage  of  verdant 
meadow  there,  n  or  stretch  scruijby  cottonwood- 
troes  to  be  worthy  of  their  exaggerated  shade. 
No  region  this  where  a  Friar  Tuck  would 
clioose  to  rove,  solacing  his  eremite  days  with 
greenwood  pleasures.  Only  ardent  hermits 
would  banish  themselves  to  such  a  hermitage. 
The  missionary  spirit,  or  the  military  religious 
discipline,  must  be  very  positive,  which  sends 
mon  to  such  unattractive  heathen  as  these,  —  to 
a  field  of  labor  far  away  from  any  contact  with 
civilization,  and  where  no  exalting  result  of 
converted    multitudes   can    be   hoped. 

The  mission  was  a  hut-like  structure  of  adobe 
clay,  plastered  upon  a  frame  of  sticks.  It  stood 
near  the  stony  bed  of  the  Atinam.  The  sun 
was  just  setting  as  we  came  over  against  it,  on 
the  hill-side.  We  dashed  down  into  the  valley, 
tliat  moment  abandoned  by  sunlight.  My  In- 
dians launched  forward  to  pay  their  friendly 
greeting  to  the  priests.  But  I  observed  them 
quickly  pause,  walk  their  horses,  and  noiselessly 
dismount. 

As  I  drew  near,  a  sound  of  reverent  voices 

10*  o 


■3' 

■ '«» 


I 
1 

i 


226 


THE  CANOE  AND  THE  SADDLE. 


*m§. 

^•^   r 

■l*«'  ■'.. 

I 

F 

r 
t 

1 

i 

m 

r 


met  me,  —  vespers  at  this  station  in  the  \^  11- 
derness.  Three  souls  were  worshipping;  in  tlio 
rude  chapel  attached  to  the  house.  It  was  rr-ie 
indeed,  —  a  cell  of  clay,  —  but  a  sense  of  tiio 
Divine  presence  was  there,  not  less  than  in 
many  dim  old  cathedrals,  far  away,  where  ear- 
lier sunset  had  called  worshippers  of  other  race 
and  tongue  to  breathe  the  same  thanksgiving 
and  the  same  heartfelt  prayer.  No  pageantry 
of  ritual  such  as  I  had  often  witnessed  in 
ancient  fanes  of  the  same  faith  ;  when  incense 
filled  the  air  and  made  it  breathe  upon  tlie 
finer  senses  ;  when  from  the  organ  tones  large, 
majestical,  triumphant,  subduing,  made  my  be- 
ing thrill  as  if  music  were  the  breath  of  a 
new  life  more  ardent  and  exalting ;  when  in- 
ward to  join  the  throngs  that  knelt  there 
solemnly,  inward  to  the  old  sanctuary  where 
their  fathers'  fathers  had  knelt  and  prayed  tlie 
ancestral  prayers  of  mankind  for  light  and 
braver  hope  and  calmer  energy,  inward  with 
the  rich  mists  of  sunset  flung  back  from  dusky 
walls  of  time-glorified  marble  palaces,  came  the 
fair  and  the  mean,  the  desolate  and  the  ex- 
ultant, —  came  beauty  to  be  transfigured  to 
more  tender  beauty  with  gentle  penitence  and 
purifying  hope,  —  came  weariness  and  pain  to 
be  soothed  with  visions  of  joy  undying,  celes- 
tialj  —  came    hearts    wellnigh  despairing,  self- 


KAMAIAKAN. 


227 


;  in  tlio 

e  of  tiie 
than  in 
I  ere  ear- 
lier race 
iksgiving 
lageantry 
lessed  iu 
1  incense 
upon   the 
les  large, 
e  my  be- 
jath   of  a 
when  in- 
elt    there 
y   where 
rayed  the 
ight    and 
vard  with 
oni  dusky 
came  the 
[   the  ex- 
gured   to 
tence  and 
pain  to 
ling,  celes" 
ring,  self- 


scourged  or  cruelly  betrayed,  to  win  there  dear 
repentance  strong  with  tears,  to  win  the  wise 
and  agonized  resolve  ;  —  never  in  any  temple 
of  that  ancient  faith,  wliere  prayer  has  made 
its  home  for  centuries,  has  prayer  seemed  so 
mighty,  worship  so  near  the  ear  of  God,  as 
ves[)ers  here  at  tliis  rough  shrine  in  the 
lonely    valley    of   Atinam. 

God  is  not  far  from  our  lives  at  any  moment. 
But  we  go  for  days  and  years  with  no  liiiht 
sliining  forth  from  kindling  heart  to  reveal  to 
us  the  near  divineness.  With  clear  and  culti- 
vated perception  we  take  in  all  facts  of  Ijcauty, 
all  the  wonderment  of  craft,  cunning  adapta- 
tion, and  subtile  design  in  nature ;  we  are  guided 
through  thick  dangers,  and  mildly  scourged  away 
h'oin  enfeebling  luxury  of  too  much  Idiss  ;  we 
eir  and  sin,  and  gain  tlie  bitter  lessons  of  pen- 
ance ;  and  all  this  while  we  are  deeming  or 
dreuniing  ourselves  thoughtfully  religious,  and 
tue  so  up  to  the  measure  of  our  development. 
But  yet,  after  all  these  years,  coming  at  last  to 
a  wayside  shrine,  where  men  after  their  manner 
are  adoring  so  much  of  the  Divine  as  their 
niiuds  can  know,  we  are  touched  with  a  litrange 
and  larger  sympathy,  and  perceive  in  ourselves 
a  great  awakening,  and  a  new  and  wider  per- 
ception of  God  and  the  godlike,  and  kiiow  that 
we  have  entered  upon  another  sphere  of  spirit* 
ual  growth. 


a' 

i 
f 


!      * 


1 

i 

m 


l«iK: 


1^- 


* 


•?  » 


i§! 


I 


'!*«; 


5r». 


HI 

r 


I 

I: 


I 


228 


THE  CANOE  AND  THE  SADDLE. 


Vespers  ended.  The  missionaries,  coming 
forth  from  their  service,  welcomed  me  with  qui- 
et cordiality.  Visits  of  men  not  savage  were 
rare  to  them  as  are  angels*  visits  to  worldlings. 
In  winter  they  resided  at  a  station  on  tlie  Yaki- 
mah  in  the  plains  eastward.  Atinam  was  their 
summer  abode,  when  the  copper-colored  lambg 
of  their  flock  were  in  the  mountains,  plucking 
berries  in  the  dells,  catching  crickets  on  the 
slopes. 

Messrs.  D'Herbomcz  and  Pandosy  had  been 
some  five  years  among  the  different  tribes  of 
this  Yakimah  region,  effecting  of  course  not 
much.  They  had  become  influential  friends, 
rather  than  spiritual  guides.  They  could  ex- 
hibit some  results  of  good  advice  in  potato- 
patches,  but  polygamy  was  too  strong  for  them. 
Kamaiakan,  chiefest  of  Yakimah  or  Klickatat 
chiefs,  sustained  their  cause  and  accepted  their 
admonitions  in  many  matters  of  conduct,  but 
never  asked  should  he  or  should  he  not  invite 
another  Mrs.  Kamaiakan  to  share  the  honors 
of  his  lodge.  Men  and  Indians  are  firm  against 
clerical  interference  in  domestic  institutions. 
Perhaps  also  Kamaiakan  had  a  vague  notion  of 
the  truth,  that  polygamy  is  not  a  whit  more 
unnatural  than  celibacy. 

Whether  or  not  these  representatives  of  the 
Society  of  Jesus  have  persuaded  the  Yakimahs 


KAMAIAKAN. 


229 


coming 
rith  qui- 
re wero 
rldliiigs. 
le  Yaki- 
ras  their 
id  lambs 
plucking 
,   on   the 

lad  been 
tribes  of 
lurse   not 
L  friends, 
could  ex- 
u  potato- 
ifor  them. 
Klickatat 
,ted  their 
duct,  but 
not  invite 
\\Q  honors 
|in  against 
Istitutions. 
notion  of 
hit  more 

j-es  of  the 
lYakimahs 


to  send  away  their  supernumerary  squaws,  for 
fear  of  something  harsher  than  the  good-natured 
amenities  of  purgatory,  one  kindly  and  success- 
ful missionary  work  they  have  done,  in  my  re- 
ception and  entertainment.  Their  fare  was  mine. 
Salmon  from  the  stream  and  potatoes  from 
their  own  garden  spread  the  board.  Their  solo 
servant,  an  old  Canadian  lay  brother,  cared  for 
my  horses,  —  for  them  and  for  me  there  was 
perfect  repose. 

By  no  means  would  Uplintz  and  Kpawintz 
allow  me  to  forget  their  promised  reward.  Each 
was  an  incomplete  dandy  of  the  Yakimahs  un- 
til that  shirt  of  blue  had  been  tried  on  by 
each,  and  contrasted  with  the  brown  cuticle  of 
each.  They  desired  to  dress  after  my  mode ; 
with  pasaiooks'  names  and  an  exchangeable 
sliirt  between  them,  they  hoped  to  become  ele- 
gant men  of  Boston  fash* an.  Twilight  was 
gloom  to  their  hearts  until  I  had  condescended 
to  lay  aside  that  envied  garment,  until  it  had 
ceased  to  be  mine,  and  was  the  joint  property 
of  two  proud  and  happy  young  braves,  and 
until  each,  wearing  it  for  a  time  and  seeing 
himself  reflected  in  the  admiring  eyes  of  his 
follow,  felt  that  he  was  stamped  with  the  true 
cachet  of  civilization.  Alas,  that  the  state 
of  my  kit  did  not  permit  me  to  double  the 
boon,  and  envelope  the   statuesque  proportions 


s 


^ 


1 
i 


1 


"J- 


€•-  ■  It 

"^r  it 

f  *■  i 


« 


i 

\ 


I 


Ml 


I 


230 


THE  CANOE  AND  THE  SADDLE. 


of  Upliiitz  with  a  clean  calico,  rich  in  pearl  but- 
tons. For  there  came  an  obtruding  question, 
how  the  two  juvenals  would  distnl)ute  the  one 
mantle.  Would  they  appear  before  tlie  critical 
circles  of  Weenas  only  on  alternate  days  ?  Would 
they  cleave  the  garment  into  a  dexter  and  a 
sinister  portion,  one  sleeve  and  half  a  body  to 
each  ?  Or  would  they  divide  the  back  to  one, 
and  the  front  to  the  otlier,  and  tlienceforth  pre- 
sent, the  one  an  obverse,  the  otlier  a  reverse  to 
the  world  ?  It  is  my  hope  that  their  tenancy 
in  connnon  of  this  perishable  cliattol  did  not 
sunder  companionsiiip.  Kpawintz  would  infalli- 
bly give  up  his  undivided  half  to  Uplintz,  if 
that  captivating  young  Adonis  demanded  it.  But 
I  trust  that  the  latter  was  content  with  grace, 
beauty,  and  rattlesnakes,  and  yielded  the  entire 
second-hand  shirt  to  his  less  accomplished  friend. 
Elaborate  toilettes  are  a  necessity  of  uglinej>s. 
Uplintz,  fair  as  Antinoiis,  would  only  deterio- 
rate under  frippery. 

It  had  a  fresh  flavor  of  incongruity  to  talk 
high  civilization  on  the  Atinam,  in  a  mud  cham- 
ber twelve  feet  square,  while  two  dusky  youths 
of  Owhhigh's  band,  squatted  on  the  floor,  eyed 
us  cahnly,  and,  when  their  pipe  was  out,  kept 
each  other  awake  with  monotonous  moaning  gut- 
turals. The  mountain  gale  of  to-niglit  was  strong 
as  tiie  mistral  of  Father  D'Herbomez's  native 
Provence.  *  •>^. 


KAMAIAKAN. 


231 


We  talked  of  that  romantic  region,  comparing 
adobe  architecture  of  the  Northwest  with  the 
Pahice  of  Avignon,  the  Amphitheatre  of  Nismes, 
the  Maison  Carr<ie,  and  the  Pont  du  Gard.  Ka- 
maiakan's  court  lost  by  contrast  with  King 
Ren<^'s,  and  no  Petrarch  had  yet  arisen  among 
the  Yakimahs.  Tiien,  passing  over  the  Maritime 
Al[)s  into  the  plains  of  Piedmont,  we  measured 
Monte  Rosa,  dominant  over  Father  Pandosy's 
liorizon  of  youth,  with  St.  Helen's,  queen  of  the 
farthest  West,  and  rebuilt  in  fancy,  on  these  des- 
ert plains,  sunny  Milan  and  its  brilliant  dome. 

It  is  good  to  have  the  brain  packed  full  of 
images  from  the  wealthy  past ;  it  is  good  to  re- 
member and  recall  tlie  beautiful  accumulations 
of  human  genius  fron.  earliest  eld  to  now.  For 
with  these  possessions  a  man  may  safely  be  a 
comrade  of  rudest  pioneers,  and  toughen  himself 
to  robust  manliness,  witliout  dislinkiiig  himself 
from  refinement,  courtesy,  and  beauty  of  act  and 
demeanor.  Nature  indeed,  wise,  fair,  and  good, 
is  ever  at  hand  to  reintroduce  us  to  our  better 
twelves ;  but  sometimes,  in  moods  sorry  or  rebel- 
lious. Nature  seems  cold  and  slow  and  distant, 
and  will  not  grant  at  once  to  our  eagerness  the 
results  of  long,  patient  study.  Then  we  turn  to 
our  remembrances  of  wdiat  brother  men  have 
done,  and  standing  among  them,  as  in  a  noble 
amphitheatre,  we  cannot  be  other  than  cxlm  and 


m 


"I 

i 


■^ 


232 


THE  CANOE  AND  THE  SADDLE. 


•I! 

in 

»»» 
Ir- 

•4 


i 


If 


I 

i 

M 


patient ;  we  cannot  fall  back  into  barbarism  and 
be  brutal,  though  our  present  society  be  Klalams 
or  Klickatats ;  and  even  when  treachery  has  exas- 
perated us  in  the  morning,  in  the  evening,  under 
the  quieting  influence  of  Art  and  History,  we 
can  forgive  the  savage,  and  think  of  pacifying 
themes. 

A  roof  crushes  and  fevers  one  who  has  been 
long  wont   to   sleep  beneath  the  stars.     I  pre- 
ferred my  blankets  without  the  cabin,  sheltered 
by  its  wall  from  the  wind  that  seemed  to  proph- 
esy a  storm  of  terrors  growing  on  the  mountains 
and  the  sea,  to  the  luxury  of  a  bunk  within. 
The  good  fathers  were  lodged  with  more  than 
conventual  simplicity.    Discomfort,  and  often  pri- 
vation, were  the  laws  of  missionary  life  in  this 
lonely  spot.     It  was  camp  life  with  none  of  the 
excitement  of  a  camp.      Drearily  monotonous 
went  the  days  of  these  pioneers.     There  was  lit- 
tle intellectual  exercise  to  be  had,  except  to  con- 
struct a  vocabulary  of  the  Yakimah  dialect,  — 
a  hardly  more   elaborate   machine  for  working 
out  thought  than  the  babbling  Chinook  jargon. 
They  could  have  inevitably  but  small  success  in 
proselyting,  and  rarely  any  society  except  tlio 
savaoje  dignity  of  Kamaiakan,  the  savage  vigor 
of  Skloo,  and  the  savage  cleverness  of  Owhhigh. 
A  tame  lustrum  for  my  hosts,  varied  only  by 
summer  migrations  to  the  Atinam  and  winter 


KAMAIAKAN. 


233 


;in  and 
lalams 
Ls  exas- 
,  tinder 
)ry,  we 
icifying 

as  been 
I  pre- 
lieltered 
)  proph- 
)untains 
within. 
>re  than 
^ften  pri- 
in  this 
of  the 
lotonous 
was  lit- 
to  con- 
alect,  — - 
working 
jargon, 
iccess  in 
eept  the 
ge  vigor 
whhigh. 
only  by 
winter 


abode  on  the  Yakimah.  If  the  object  of  a  man's 
Hfe  were  solely  to  produce  efTcct  upon  other 
men,  and  only  mediately  upon  himself,  one 
would  say  that  the  life  of  a  cultivated  and  intel- 
lectual missionary,  endeavoring  to  instruct  sav- 
ages in  the  complex  and  transitional  dogma- 
tisms of  civilization,  was  absolutely  wasted. 

When  I  woke,  late  as  sunrise,  after  the 
crowded  fatigues  and  difficulties  of  yesterday,  I 
found  that  already  my  hosts  had  despatched 
Uplintz  and  Kpawintz  to  a  supposed  neighbor 
camp  of  their  brethren,  to  seek  me  a  guide. 
Also  the  old  servitor,  a  friendly  grumbler,  was 
off  to  the  mountains  on  a  similar  errand.  Pa- 
tience, therefore,  and  remember,  hasty  voyager, 
that  many  are  the  chances  of  savage  life. 

Antipodes  had  shaken  to  pieces  whatever 
stitched  bag  he  bore.  I  seized  this  moment 
to  make  repairs.  Among  my  traps  were  nee- 
dles and  thread  of  the  stoutest,  for  use  and  for 
presents.  The  fascinating  squaw  of  Weenas, 
if  she  had  but  known  it,  was  very  near  a 
largess  of  such  articles.  But  the  wrong-doini* 
of  Sultan  Olyman  lost  her  the  gift,  and  my  tai- 
lor-stock was  undiminished.  I  made  a  lucky 
thrust  at  the  one  eye  of  a  needle,  and  began 
my  work  with  iicvere  attention. 

While  I  was  mending,  Uplintz,  with  his  ad- 
miring Orson,  Kpawintz,  came  galloping  back. 


1 
i 


"K» 


•i 


234 


THE  CANOE  AND  THE  SADDLE. 


tt  ! 


HI  #'4 

•ft 

r 


4 

It 


M 

r 


Gone  were  the  Indians  they  had  sought;  gone — • 
so  said  their  trail  —  to  gad  nomadly  any wliere. 
And  the  two  comrades,  though  willing  to  go 
with  me  to  the  world's  end  for  the  pleasure 
of  my  society  and  the  reward  of  ray  shirts, 
must  admit  to  Father  Pandosy,  cross-examin- 
ing, that  they  had  never  meandered  along 
the  Dalles  hooihut.  ' 

Tlie  old  lay  brother  also  returned  bringing 
bad  luck.  Where  he  had  looked  to  find  popu- 
lous lodges,  he  met  one  straggihig  squaw,  left 
there  to  potter  alone,  while  the  B<3douins 
were  far  away.  The  many  chances  of  Indian 
life  seemed  chancing  sadly  against  me.  Should 
I  despair  of  farther  progress,  and  become  an 
acolyte  of  the  Atinam  mission  ? 

Just  then  I  raised  my  eyes,  and  lo  !  a  majestic 
Indian  in  Lincoln  green !  He  was  dismounting 
at  the  corral  from  a  white  pacer.     Who  now  ? 

"  Le  bon  Dieii  I'envoie,"  said  Father  Pan- 
dosy ;   "  c'est  Kamaiakau  memo." 

Enter,  then,  upon  this  scene  Kamaiakan, 
chiefost  of  Yakimah  chiefs.  He  was  a  tall, 
large  man,  very  dark,  with  a  massive  square 
face,  and  grave,  reflective  look.  Without  the 
senatorial  coxcombry  of  Owiihigh,  his  manner 
was  strikingly  distinguished,  quiet  and  dig- 
nified. He  greeted  the  priests  as  a  Kaiser 
might  a  Papal  legate.    To  me,  as  their  friend, 


KAMAIAKAN. 


235 


scome  an 


he  gave  his  hand  with  a  gentlemanly  word  of 
welcome. 

All  tlie  nobs  I  have  known  among  Redskins 
have  retained  a  certain  dignity  of  manner  even 
in  their  beggarly  moods.     Among  the  plebeians, 
this  excellence  degenerates  into  a  gruff  coolness 
or  insolent  indifference.      No  one  ever  saw   a 
bustling  or  fussy  Indian.     Even  when  he  begs 
of  a  blanketeer  gifted  with  chattels,  and  beg  he 
does  without  shame  or  shrinking,  he  asks  as  if 
he  would  do  the  possessor  of  so  much  trumpery 
an   honor  by   receiving  it  at  his  hands.     The 
nauseous,  brisk,   pen-behind-the-ear   manner   of 
the   thriving  tradesman,  competitor  with  every- 
thing and  everybody,  would  disgust  an  Indian 
even  to  the   scalping  point.     Owhhigh,  visiting 
my  quarters  at  Squally  with  his  fugue  of  beg- 
gars, praying  me  to  breech  his  breechless,  shirt 
his  shirtless,  shoe  his  shoeless  child,  treated  me 
with  a  calm  loftiness,  as  if  I   were   merely    a 
steward  of  his,  or  certainly  nothing  more  than 
a  co-potentate   of   the    world's   oligarchy.      He 
showed  no  discomposure  at  my  refusal,  as  un- 
moved   as    his    request.      Fatalism,    indolence, 
stolidity,  and  self-respect   are  combined   in  this 
indifference.      Most  of  a   savage's   prayers   for 
bounty  are   made  direct  to  Nature  ;  when  she 
refuses,  she  does  so  according  to  majestic  laws, 
of  which  he,  half  reflectively,  half  instinctively, 


:  x:  ■ 


'»1 


w 

-.if- 

M  '  -■ 


1 
1 


■'« 


236 


THE   CANOE   AND  THE  SADDLE. 


Ik  - 


2  ^ 

■■•■;  k 
It. 


m 


■I, 


f 

I 


is  conscious.  He  learns  that  there  is  no  use  in 
waiting  and  whining  for  sahnon  out  of  season, 
or  fresh  grasshoppers  in  March.  According  to 
inevitable  laws,  he  will  have,  or  will  not  have, 
salmon  of  the  first  water,  and  aromatic  grass- 
hoppers sweet  as  honey-dew.  Caprice  is  out 
of  the  question  with  Nature,  although  her  sex 
be  feminine.  Thus  a  savage  learns  to  believe 
that  power  includes  steadiness. 

Kamaiakan's  costume  was  novel.  Louis  Phi- 
lippe dodging  the  police  as  Mr.  Smitli,  and 
adorned  with  a  woollen  comforter  and  a  blue 
cotton  umbrella,  was  unkingly  and  a  carica- 
ture. He  must  be  every  inch  a  king  who  can 
appear  in  an  absurd  garb  and  yet  look  full 
royal.  Kamaiakan  stood  the  test.  He  wore  a 
coat,  a  long  tunic  of  fine  green  cloth.  Like 
the  irregular  beds  of  a  kitchen  garden  were 
the  patches,  of  all  shapes  and  sizes,  combined 
to  form  this  robe  of  ceremony.  A  line,  zizgag 
as  the  path  over  new-fallen  snow  trodden  by  a 
man  after  toddies  too  many,  —  such  devious  line 
marked  the  waist.  Sleeves,  baggy  here,  and 
there  tight  as  a  bandage,  were  inserted  some- 
where, without  reference  to  the  anatomical  in- 
sertion of  arms.  Each  verdant  patch  was  sepa- 
rated from  its  surrounding  patches  by  a  ram- 
part or  a  ditch  of  seam,  along  which  stitches 
of  white  threads  strayed  like  vines.      It  was  a 


,      V 


KAMAIAKAN. 


237 


gerrymandered  coat,  —  gerrymandered  according 
to  some  system  perhaps  understood  by  the  opera- 
tor, but  to  me  complex,  impolitic,  and  uncon- 
stitutional. 

Yet  Kamaiakan  was  not  a  scarecrow.  Within 
tliis  garment  of  disjunctive  conjunction  he  stood 
a  chieftainly  man.  He  hud  the  advantage  of 
an  imposing  presence  and  bearing,  and  above 
all  a  good  face,  a  well-lighted  Pharos  at  the 
top  of  his  colossal  frame.  We  generally  recog- 
nize whether  there  is  a  man  looking  at  us  from 
behind  what  he  chances  to  use  for  eyes,  and 
when  we  detect  tlie  man,  we  are  cheered  or 
bullied  according  to  what  we  are.  It  is  intrinsi- 
cally more  likely  that  the  chieftainly  man  will 
be  an  acknowledged  chief  among  simple  savages, 
than  in  any  of  the  transitional  phases  of  civ- 
ilization preceding  the  educated  simplicity  of 
social  life,  whither  we  now  tend.  Kamaiakan, 
in  order  to  be  chiefest  chief  of  tlie  Yakimahs, 
must  be  clever  enough  to  master  the  dodges 
of  salmon  and  the  will  of  wayward  mustangs; 
or,  like  Fine-Ear,  he  must  know  where  kamas- 
bulbs  are  mining  a  passage  for  their  sprouts ; 
or  he  must  be  able  to  tramp  farther  and  fare 
better  than  his  fellows ;  or,  by  a  certain  tama- 
noiis  that  is  in  him,  he  must  have  power  to 
persuade  or  convince,  to  win  or  overbear.  He 
must  be  best  as  a  hunter,  a  horseman,  a  war* 


"'9 


1 

I 


■m 


238 


THE  CANOK  AND  THE  SADDLE. 


t 

m 

•# 

*m 

%■        It 

-m 

f   :; 

t 

'    if 

m 

<    ..1 

w»> 

•          "3 

4 

;■« 

(» 

it 

t            "** 

•.      ■_/ 

•      «i 

f 

«!! 

-V 

i 

•t> 

'   ? 

«i 

i' 

t 

•? 

F 

« 

t. 

'I! 

11 

*> 

t 

* 

m 

9 

'Hi 

m 

fl 

t 

1 

tL 

II 

■# 


rior,  an  orator.  These  are  personal  attributes, 
not  heritable ;  if  Kamaiakan  Junior  is  a  nature's 
nobody,  he  takes  no  permanent  benefit  by  his 
parentage. 

Ghiei'tainly  Kamaiakan  seated  himself  and  his 
fantastic  coat  in  the  hut.  He  had  looked  in 
to  see  his  friends,  the  good  fathers,  and  to 
counsel  with  them  what  could  bo  done  for  Mrs. 
Kamaiakan  the  third.  Tiiat  estimable  lady  hud 
taken  too  much  salmon,  —  very  far  too  much, 
alas  !  —  and  Kamaiakan  feared  that  he  was  about 
to  become  a  widower,  pro  tanto,  Sucli  a  par- 
tial solution  of  the  question  of  polygamy  was 
hardly  desired  by  the  missionaries.  It  were 
better  to  save  Mrs.  K.  the  third ;  for  doubt- 
less already,  knowing  of  her  illness,  many  a 
maiden  of  Yakimah  high  fashion  was  wishing 
that  her  locks  might  glisten  more  sleekly  at- 
tractive ;  many  a  dusky  daughter  of  the  tril>e 
was  putting  on  the  permanent  blush  of  vermil- 
ion to  win  a  look  from  the  disconsolate  chief. 
The  fathers  feared  that  he  would  not  content  him- 
self with  one  substitute,  but,  not  to  give  offence, 
would  accept  the  candidates  one  and  all.  There- 
fore one  of  the  gentlemen  busied  himself  with 
a  dose  for  the  surfeited  squaw,  —  a  dose  in 
quantity  giant,  in  force  dwarf,  —  one  that  should 
make  itself  respected  at  first  sight,  and  gain  a 
Chinese  victory  by  its  formidable  aspect  alone. 


KAMAIAKAN. 


239 


Whilo  one  compounded  this  truciilciit  bolus, 
the  other  imparted  my  needs  to  tlie  chief. 

Kamaiakan  himself  could  not  profit  hy  this 
occasion  to  make  a  trip  to  the  Dalles  and  culti- 
vate my  society.  Not  only  domestic  trials,  hut 
duties  of  state  prevented.  Were  ho  absent  at 
this  critical  epoch,  when  uninvited  soldier-men 
were  tramping  the  realm  and  winking  at  its 
ladies  without  respect  to  rank,  who  would  stand 
forward  as  champion  ?  Who  pacify  alike  riotous 
soldier-man  and  aggrieved  savage  ?  Kamaiakan 
could  not  leave  the  field  to  Skloo  the  aml)itious, 
nor  to  Owhhigh  the  crafty,  when  he  returned 
from  Squally  rich  with  goods,  the  proceeds  of 
many  a  horse-theft.  Absent  a  week,  and  Ka- 
maiakan might  find  that  for  another,  and  not 
for  him,  were  the  tawny  maids.  Kamaiakan 
must  stay.  A  nobleman  on  the  climb  must 
keep  himself  always  before  the  vulgar. 

But  a  follower  of  the  chief  had  just  ambled 
up  on  a  pony,  leading  his  sumpter  horse.  Him 
Kamaiakan  despatched  up  the  Atinam,  where 
he  had  heard  that  a  camp  of  his  people  had 
halted  on  their  way  to  the  mountain  berry- 
patches.  Among  them  was  a  -proUgS  of  the 
chief,  who  knew  every  trail  of  the  region  and 
had  horses  galore. 

Many  are  the  chances  of  nomad  life.  Enter 
now,  in  the  background,  a  si  wash  soon  to  be 


..•■■• 
1 


1 

I 


240 


THE  CANOE  AND  THE  SADDLE. 


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a  personage  in  this  drama,  if  the  last  legs  of 
his  flea-bitten  white  Rosinante  can  but  convey 
him  to  the  foreground  to  announce  himself. 

Enter  Ferdinand  on  the  scene,  in  an  Isabella 
yellow  shirt,  —  he  and  his  garments  alike  guilt- 
less of  the  soap  of  Castile,  or  any  soap  of 
land  less  royal.  :    ,  . 

Ferdinand  was  a  free  companion,  a  cosmop- 
olite of  his  world.  He  was  going  somewhere, 
anywhere,  nowhere.  He  had  happened  in  with 
dinner  in  view.  S  '  ng  as  the  legs  of  Rosinante 
lasted,  Ferdinand  could  be  a  proud  cavalier. 
Now,  those  legs  failing,  he  drooped.  He  would 
soon  become  a  peon,  a  base  footman,  and  possi- 
bly, under  temptation,  a  footpad.  Better,  then, 
quarter  himself  on  his  friends  and  former  masters, 
the  priests,  until  in  the  free  pastures  of  Atinam 
Rosinante  should  grow  bumptious  again. 

As  his  name  imported,  this  new-comer  claimed 
to  be  identified  with  civilization.  "No  Indian 
name  have  I,"  he  said,  "  I  am  Fudnun,  a  blan- 
keteer."  He  was  a  resolved  renegado  from  In- 
dian polity  and  sociality.  He  had  served  with 
the  Hudson's  Bay  Company.  He  had  even 
condescended  to  take  lessons  in  cookery  from 
the  pale-face  squaws  of  the  Willamette. 

While  Ferdinand  was  thus  announcing  him- 
self, and  communicatively  making  good  his  claim 
as  a  blanketeer,  the  envoy  of  Kamaiakau  re- 


KAMAIAKAN. 


241 


legs  of 
,  convey 

naself. 
Isabella 

[ke  guilt- 
soap   of 

k  cosmop- 
.mewhcre, 
d  in  with 
Rosinantc 
cavalier. 
He  would 
and  possi- 
tter,  then, 
ler  masters, 
of  Atinam 

ain. 

er  claimed 
No  Indian 
un,  a  blan- 
o  from  In- 
erved  with 

had    even 
)kory  from 

tte. 

ncing  him- 

d  his  claim 
aiakan  re- 


turned. He  had  hastened  up  the  Atinam,  and 
come  to  Camp  No-camp.  The  able-bodied  si- 
washes  had  all  vanished,  leaving  only  a  few 
cliildren,  recently  out  of  the  papoose  period, 
and  a  few  squaws  far  on  toward  second  child- 
hood. Only  such  were  left  as  had  no  more 
tlian  power  enougli  to  chase  and  bag  tlie  agile 
grasshopper  and  far-bounding  cricket,  and  to 
pounce  upon  and  bag  every  tuuibling  beetle  of 
the  plain.  ;: 

Such  industry  the  messenger  had  found  at 
the  camp ;  but  the  able-bodied,  capable  of  larger 
duties,  had  vanished  up  the  wild  valleys,  and 
scattered  along  the  flanks  of  Tacoma,  to  change 
their  lowland  diet  for  that  of  the  mountain- 
side; —  while  the  fresh  horses  I  should  have  had 
swam  in  the  verdure  of  the  summit  prairies, 
the  guide  I  should  have  had  was  stuffing  by 
the  handful  strawberries,  raspberries,  blackber- 
ries, sallal-berries,  and  his  squaws,  with  only 
furtive  tribute  to  their.>own  maw,  were  bestow- 
ing the  same  fruits  into  baskets  for  provident 
drying. 

Again  what  was  to  be  done,  for  day  grew 
toward  noon,  and  by  to-morrow  night  I  must 
he  at  the  Dalles,  eighty  miles  away  ?  My  kind 
friends  of  the  mission  were  discussing  whether 
the  old  sacristan  could  be  trusted  to  know  the 
trail  and  bear  the  fatigues,  when  Ferdinand  rose, 

II  r 


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242 


THE  CANOE  AND  THE  SADDLE. 


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steppi^d  out  of  the  chorus,  to  become  an  actor 
in  the  drama,  and  thus  spoke,  self-prompted :  — 

"  Fudnun  nika,  pasaiooks ;  Ferdinand  I,  blan- 
keteer.  Siks  nika  copa  Boston  tyee ;  friend  I 
to  Boston  chief.  Nika  nanitch  cuitan,  closche 
yakah  klatawah ;  I  've  seen  the  horses,  they  '11 
go  well  enough.  Nika  kumtux  Dalles  hooihiit, 
pe  tikky  hyack  klatawah ;  I  know  the  Dalles 
trail,  and  am  ready  to  go  at  once." 

Excellent  Ferdinand !  What  fine  apparition, 
what  quaint  Ariel,  doing  his  spiriting  gently, 
wooed  thee  to  these  yellow  sands  of  Atinam,  to 
be  my  deliverer  ?  Sweet  youth,  thou  shalt  have 
a  back-load  of  trinkets  to  carry  to  thy  Miran- 
da when  we  part.  Fudnun  the  blanketeer,  let 
us  go. 

My  new  comrade  showed  Boston  energy.  He 
drove  up  the  three  horses  at  once.  Rest  and 
bunch-grass  at  discretion  had  revived  them.  A 
tough  journey  was  before  us,  but  thus  far  they 
had  not  failed  in  the  face  of  worse  difficulties 
than  we  were  to  meet.  For  a  supplement,  the 
missionaries  lent  me  a  mare  of  theirs,  to  be 
ridden  as  far  as  her  foal  would  follow,  and  left 
on  the  prairie  for  Ferdinand  to  pick  up  on  re- 
turn. The  kindness  of  these  gentlemen  went 
with  me  after  my  departure. 

Adieu,  therefore,  to  the  good  fathers,  and 
may  they  be  requited  in  better  regions  of  earth, 


KAMATAKAN. 


243 


an  aclor 
^tcd :  — 
I  I,  blan- 
friend  I 
,1,  closclie 
s,  they  'II 
3  hooihut, 
the  Dalles 

apparition, 
ng  gently, 
Atinam,  to 
shalt  have 
thy  Miran- 
uketeer,  let 


or  better  than  earth,  for  their  hospitality.  Adieu 
Kamaial^an,  prudent  and  weighty  chief!  fate 
grant  thee  a  coat  of  fewer  patches,  a  nobler  robe 
of  state.  Adieu  the  old  lay  brother.  Uplintz 
and  Kpawintz,  my  merry  pair,  continue  foes 
of  the  rattlesnake,  and  friends  to  the  blue-shirtcd 
Boston  men.  .   , 


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l.IGHTNING   AND   TORCHLIGHT. 

A  LITTLE  before  noon  we  left  the  hut  of  bhio 
mud,  the  mission  of  Atinam.  We  forded  the 
shallow  river,  and  Ferdinand  cheerily  led  the 
way  straight  up  the  steep  hill-side.  From  its 
summit  I  could  overlook,  for  farewell,  the  paral- 
lel ranges,  walls  of  my  three  valleys  of  adven- 
ture. There  were  no  forests  over  those  vast 
arid  mounds  to  narrow  the  view.  Hills  of  Wee- 
nas,  hills  of  Nachchese,  valley  of  Atinam,  —  I 
took  my  last  glance  over  their  large  monotony. 

I  might  glance  over  the  landscape,  and  recall 
my  crowded  life  in  it,  only  while  the  horses 
breathed  after  their  climb,  and  no  longer.  If 
not  eighty,  certainly  sixty  miles  away  over  the 
mountains  is  the  Columbia,  Achilles  of  rivers. 
And,  says  Ferdinand,  "  it  must  be  a  race  all 
day  with  time,  all  night  with  time,  a  close  race 
with  time  to-morrow."  If  uncertainty  of  success 
is  a  condition  of  success,  we  shall  win  the  race. 
But  no  dalliance,  no  staying  to  study  landscape; 
we  must  on,  steadily  as  the  Princess  Parazaide, 


LIGHTNING  AND  TORCHLIGHT. 


215 


whatever  sermons  there  be  in  the  stones  along 
our  way. 

Vast  were  the  hilly  sweeps  we  overcame.  Nags 
of  mine,  ye  had  toil  ihat  penultimate  day  of  Au- 
gust. But  straiglit  from  far  snow  clitfs  came 
electric  airs,  forerunners  of  the  nightly  gale. 
And  the  sun,  that  it  might  never  be  deemed 
a  cruel  tyrant,  had  provided  remedies  against  its 
own  involuntary  despotism,  in  streams  from  the 
snows  of  Tacoma,  melted  not  beyond  the  point 
of  delicious  coolness.  Snow  crystals  married 
with  sunbeams  came  gliding  down  the  valleys 
on  their  wedding  tour.  Down  the  gorges  in 
the  basalt,  and  so  by  pool  and  plunge,  the  trans- 
figured being,  a  new  element,  poured  to  the  peb- 
bly reaches  below.  Whenever  we  had  climbed 
the  long  bulk  of  a  dusty  hill-side,  dreary  with 
wild  sage,  a  stunted  and  abortive  tree,  the 
mean  ensign  of  barrenness,  and  then  descended 
the  hot,  thirsty  slopes  of  a  declivity  as  dreary, 
down  in  the  valley  always  we  found  the  anti- 
dote to  dust,  thirst,  and  sterility,  the  precious 
boon  of  water  hidden  among  grass  and  trees,  — 
!^ullshine's  gift  brought  from  the  snows  to  cure 
the  pangs  of  sunshine.  Sparkling  draughts  of 
water  were  ready  in  vale  after  vale.  I  had 
but  to  stoop  from  my  saddle  while  Klale  drank, 
aud  scoop  the  bright  flow  in  a  leather  cup 
long  dedicated  to  -^gle,  in  classic  fountains  of 
liistoric  lands.  .    .  *.     • 


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246 


THE  CANOE  AND  THE  SADDLE. 


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Ferdinand's  temptation  and  test  of  faithful- 
ness befell  him  before  we  had  gone  two  leagues 
on  our  way.  As  the  fates  threw  Shabbiest  in 
the  path  of  Loolowcan,  now  Ferdinand's  temp- 
ter appeared.  One  watches  his  man  narrowly 
at  such  a  moment.  Which  Janus-face  will  he 
turn  ?  the  one  that  sees  the  past,  or  the  one 
that  looks  toward  the  future?  Will  he  be  tlie 
bold  and  true  radical,  or  the  slinking  conserva- 
tive ?  The  combat,  with  its  Parthian  flights  and 
Pyrrhic  victories,  is  generally  more  briefly  called 
life,  and  its  result  character. 

Thus  far  I  had  only  the  coarse  public  facts 
on  Ferdinand  as  a  theme  for  analysis.  When 
Mystery  takes  care  that  a  man  shall  exist,  and 
have  a  few  years'  career  in  villany  or  heroism, 
Mystery  also  takes  care  to  set  upon  the  man's 
front  a  half-decipherable  inscription.  Fudnuu 
was  attractive,  not  repulsive,  in  the  traits  that 
mark  character.  By  physiognomy,  I  deemed 
him  a  truish  man,  a  goodish  fellow,  a  wiseish 
nomad.  But  how  was  I  to  know  what  educa- 
tion had  made  of  liim  ?  what  indiscriminate 
vengeance  he  might  have  in  his  heart?  what 
treacliery  in  return  for  other  blanketeers'  treach- 
ery ?  Tiie  same  spirit  of  our  darksome  enlight- 
enment that  makes  slavery  possible,  makes  mal- 
treatment of  Indians  certain.  Fudnun  might 
feel  himself  nominated  to  punish  in  me  tha 
wrongs  of  his  race.  a. 


LIGHTNING   AND   TOKCULIJHT. 


247 


The  Indian  who  was  to  be  Fudnun's  Me- 
phistophiles  was  riding  seemin<]jly  astray  and 
purposeless  across  the  world,  like  an  Indian. 
But  when  the  stranger,  coming  full  tilt  through 
a  bending  defile,  saw  us,  it  was  too  late  to 
skulk.  He  pulled  up  his  wild  black  horse,  no- 
ticed me  with  a  cool  Ilowdydo,  and  opened  fire 
uj)on  Fudnun,  with  gutturals  not  at  all  cheer- 
ful. Fudnun  informed  me  that  the  tenor  of 
the  new-comer's  oration  was  liK.e  Shabbiest's  to 
Loolowcan,  yesterday. 

So,  then,  big  Brownskin  on  a  fiery  black  mus- 
tang, inferior  chief  with  shirt  and  leggins  of 
buckskin  reddened  with  clay,  sulky  siwash  of 
Skloo's  band,  armed  with  gun  and  knife,  —  thou 
too  art  inhospitable  to  the  parting  guest,  —  thou 
too  art  unwilling  that  by  the  aid  of  Fudnun, 
my  friend,  I  should  speed  out  of  the  country 
toward  the  Columbia.  Now,  then,  none  of  this ! 
Avaunt!    Make  tracks! 

But  he  declined  to  make  tracks,  and  held  the 
too  facile  Ferdinand  in  powwow.  I  questioned 
in  my  prudent  heart  whether  I  should  do  what 
I  twitched  to  do,  namely,  use  the  Ovvlihigh  whip 
upon  this  scowling  interloper.  The  wristlet  of 
ottor-fur  tigli^  led  in  my  grasp;  I  shook  the 
long  lash  carelessly  about  the  sturdy  legs  of 
the  wiry  horse  of  Brownskin  the  Tempter,  sting- 
ing them  restive,   horse   and   man.      With   re- 


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248 


THE  CANOE  AND  THE  SADDLE. 


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vengeful  venom  of  the  blackest  in  his  mind, 
the  copper-headed,  snaky  beguiler  continued  his 
solicitations,  urging  Ferdinand,  as  tliat  excellent 
worthy  afterwards  told  me,  not  merely  to  desert, 
but  to  aid  in  a  scheme  of  pillage,  and  whatever 
outrage  might  precede  or  follow  pillage. 

Ferdinand,  as  I  trusted,  was  proof  against 
the  wily  wheedler,  though  he  sputtered  poison- 
ously  in  a  language  I  knew  not.  Ferdinand 
at  last  shook  off  that  serpent  influence,  and 
turned  toward  the  trail.  Coppcr-liead,  bailled, 
gave  mo  a  glance  with  a  bite  in  it,  and  galloped 
away,  too  much  enraged  to  ask  more  barbarico 
for  all  my  valuables  as  a  present. 

"  Ha,  ha !  "  chuckled  Fudnun,  shaking  his 
head,  showing  his  white  teeth,  and  seeming  as 
happy  as  a  school-girl  with  a  new  conundrum; 
"  ha,  ha !  "  chuckled  he,  as  if  this  were  a  joke 
of  the  fresliest.  "  Yaka  tikky  memloose  mika 
pe  capsualla  conoway  ikta ;  he  want  kill  you 
and  steal  all  tlie  traps.  Halo  nika  ;  not  at  all  I. 
Wake  kahquah  klimmeriwhit  Fudnun,  —  wako 
cultus  man  ocook  ;  not  so  is  Fudnun  a  liar,  — 
no  dastard  he." 

Certainly  not,  Fudnun  the  Trusty  !  I  divined 
you  rightly,  then.  Your  Janus-face  points  aright. 
You  are  not  a  spoilt  Indian.  I  set  you  in 
the  scale  against  Loolowcan  the  Frowzy,  and 
once  more  half  believe  in  honesty  of  barbarians. 


LIGHTNING   AND   TORCHLIGHT. 


249 


Having  defied  temptation,  henceforth  you  aro 
true. 

Pudniin  had  thus  far  ridden  the  mission  mare, 
while  Gubbins  pranced  bare-back.  Now  the 
foul  began  to  sigh  for  his  native  heath,  and 
shrink  from  strange,  wild  scenes.  We  therefore 
stopped,  and  turned  them  out  into  the  wide 
world.  They  could  wallow  in  the  long  sedges 
therealong,  and  drink  of  the  brook.  No  Indian 
of  all  the  country-side  would  allow  his  thievish 
heart  to  covet  an  animal  with  the  mission  brand. 
Mc,  or  any  otlier  intrusive  pasaiooks,  he  might 
rob  of  beast  or  the  burden  of  beast,  but  what- 
ever belonged  to  the  priests  was  taboo.  And  if 
mission  property  could  not  protect  itself,  woe  be 
to  tlie  thief  when  the  green,  gleaming  coat  of 
the  dread  inevitable  Kamaiakan  was  seen  along 
his  trail.  '  • 

Gubbins  must  again  endure  a  rider  more  hu- 
mane than  Loolowcan.  Antipodes's  packs  were 
now  ridiculously  light,  as  ^sop's  bag  at  the  end 
of  the  journey.  We  could  press  on  fleet  over 
hill  and  dale,  on  and  on,  steadily  riding  as  if  we 
bore  tidings  of  joy,  or  rode  for  succor  for  the 
beleaguered  of  a  starving  city.  On,  never  flag- 
ging, we  sped,  and  drew,  as  day  waned,  toward 
tiie  wooded  mountains.  Never  a  moment  we  rest- 
ed, traversing  tenantless  wastes,  until  deep  in  the 
afternoju  we  came  to  a  large,  pure  well  of  ex- 


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250 


THE    CANOE   AND   THE   SADDLE. 


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quisito  water,  predicted  by  Ferdinand,  wisest  of 
nomads. 

There,  in  a  glade  emeralded  with  richest  of 
grass,  I  reposed,  elaborating  strength  for  my 
night  ride.  Meanwhile,  my  horses,  with  never 
a  leg  the  less  than  when  I  proved  them  on  tlio 
Macadam  of  Squally,  swallowed  green  landscape 
fast,  as  if  they  feared  this  feast  were  a  mirage, 
and  the  water-sprite  would  presently  roll  up 
her  green  drapery  and  vanish.  The  liorses,  witli 
or  without  fancies  or  forethought,  instinctively 
made  ready  for  the  coming  trial. 

Sweet  are  such  episodes  of  travel  in  the  fair 
spots  of  earth.  Sweet,  though  the  fare  be  but 
pork  toasted  on  a  stick,  and  hard-tack  to  whieli 
mustiness  has  but  slightly  penetrated.  And  if 
after  feast  so  Spartan,  before  a  night  to  be  sleep- 
less, a  siesta  propose  itself,  who  will  refuse  ? 
Not  the  wise  traveller,  to  whom  sleep  or  food 
never  come  amiss.  By  the  Fountain  of  Fudnuu 
the  Jolly,  to  whom  in  less  busy  times  life  was  a 
long  joke,  sleep,  or  repose  not  quite  losing  con- 
sciousness, might  be  permitted.  For  now  my 
doubts  of  winning  the  race  were  beheaded  by 
trenchant  intuitions  of  success,  and  wriggled 
away  into  the  background.  Such  doubts  neces- 
sarily forecrawl  a  man  on  the  march  toward  any 
object ;  it  is  well  if  he  can  timely  destroy  them, 
lest  they  trip  up  the  rider's  hopeful  ardor. 


LIGHTNING    AND   TORCIIUCnT. 


201 


Distance,  lying  in  long  coils  from  Wlinlgc  on- 
ward, 1  had  nearly  trampled  to  deatli ;  its  great 
hack  showed  marks  of  my  victorious  lioofs  ;  only 
the  liead  reared  itself,  monstrous  and  unsubdued. 
One  more  great  rampart  of  mountains  must  ho 
j-tormed,  and  for  this  final  assault  Klale,  An- 
tipodes, and  Guhhins  were  still  taking  in  such 
stuff  as  courage  is  made  of.  Feed  on,  trusty 
trio  ;  1  love  the  sound  of  those  jaws.  It  racks 
my  heart  to  know  that  I  must  still  demand 
much  go-ahead  of  you.  I>ut  though  an  exact- 
ing, 1  have  been  a  merciful  master.  Ye  havo 
had  long  grass,  to  be  digested  into  lea})s,  short 
grass  for  walking  material,  and  sometimes  a 
prairie-flower  for  inspiring  a  demivolt.  1  havo 
whipped  you,  Antipodes,  but  have  I  winded 
you  V  And  now  that  you  have  taken  your  (ill 
of  grass,  long,  siioi't,  and  flowery,  let  us  away, 
to  climl)  the  great  ridges  l>cl"ore   nightf.ill. 

We  came,  not  long  before  sunset,  to  the  great 
mountain  lange,  —  another  buttress  of  tlie  Cas- 
ciule  system.  Full  against  tho  plain  rose  a 
bulky  earthwork.  Klickatats  on  mustangs  had 
been,  ever  since  Klickatats  first  learned  to  ride, 
forever  assaulting  this  fortress  in  elal)orato  zig- 
zii^^s,  engineered  with  skill.  And  here,  for  fifteen 
liumired  feet,  we  too  nnist  climb,  driving  our 
lioi\>cs  before  us  ;  we  bending  forward,  and  they 
struggling  u[)  on  tiptoo  and  consuming  energy 
far  too  rapidly. 


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THE  CANOK  AND  THE  SADDLE. 


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,t 


Tlio  sun  was  prematurely  gone  wlicn  wo 
reached  the  edge  of  easier  ^lope  above  this  mu- 
ral front.  Where  I  should  have  seen,  westward, 
the  Cascades  and  Taconia  bright  as  sunny  cloud, 
but  firmer  than  cloud,  were  now  no  mountains 
black  with  pines,  was  no  Tacoma  against  tlio 
rose  of  sunset.  A  gloomy  purple  storm  lay 
over  the  Cascades,  vaster  than  they.  A  mass  of 
thunderous  darkness  had  swept  in  from  ocean, 
and  now  stayed  majestic,  overlooking  the  wide 
world.  Would  it  retreat  with  the  sun,  to  do 
havoc  wherever  white  sails  were  strained  iu 
hopeless  flight,  and  whirl  the  spray  from  wreck- 
ing coral-reefs  to  the  calm  lagoons  within  ?  Or 
would  it  take  a  night  of  Titanic  revelry  among 
the  everlasting  hills,  toppling  crag  into  chasm, 
shaking  down  avalanches  to  drown  their  roar 
with  roar  of  louder  thunder,  tossing  great  trees 
over  into  the  torrents  to  see  their  strong  deatli- 
strugglo  in  tlio  foam,  by  the  ghastly  beauty  of 
lightning,  revealing  a  spectacle  born  and  dead  iu 
an  instant  ?  Or  must  it,  with  no  choice  of  its 
own,  range  with  the  whirl  of  the  globe,  taking 
giant  pleasure  or  doing  giant  ruin  as  the  chances 
of  Nature  olTered  ?  Which  of  these  was  to  bo 
the  destiny  of  that  purple  storm,  poised  and 
lowering  over  the  hidden  mountains  ?  I  couM 
divine  its  decision,  or  its  obedience,  by  prophetic 
puffs  of  roasted  air,  that  ever  and  anou,  in  a 


LIGHTNING    AND   TORCIIMGIIT. 


2o3 


m    we 

lis  mii- 
itwanl, 
cloud, 
lutuius 
list  the 
rm  lay 
Liiiss  of 
ocean, 
10  wide 
,  to  do 
iucd    ill 
I  wrcck- 
iu?     Or 
f  among 
chasm, 
eir  roar 
at  trees 
g  death- 
auty  of 
dead  in 
jc  of  its 
taking 
cliauccs 
as  to  l>o 
sed   and 
I  could 
)roplictio 

oil,  iu  * 


sudden  calm  tliat  had  now  hefallon,  Bmoto  me, 
as  if  some  impisli  urchin,  one  of  the  pages  of 
yEolus,  dancing  on  a  piping  wind-bag,  was  look- 
ing my  way  and  smiting  liis  breezy  cheeks. 

Beside  that  envel()|)C  of  storm  hiding  the  west 
from  floor  to  cope,  tliero  was  only  to  be  seen, 
now  softened  witli  dull  violet  haze,  the  largo, 
rude  region  of  my  day's  gallop,  —  thirty  miles 
of  surging  earth,  seamed  with  frequent  valleys 
of  streams  flowing  eastward,  wlioro  scanty  belts 
of  timber  grew  by  tlio  water-sido. 

When  August's  sun,  tho  remorseless^  \>  goiic, 
whether  behind  the  ragged  rims  of  a  hurricane 
or  tho  crest  of  a  sierra,  men  and  horses  revive 
in  that  long  shade.  Twilight  is  swooi  and  re- 
storing in  itself,  and  also  to  an  iinforasec'iig  trio 
of  mustangs,  as  promising  the  period  wlien  men 
encamp  and  horses  are  unsaddled.  Therefore^ 
now,  although  the  air  was  heavy  and  tho  liglit 
lurid,  wo  chased  along  tho  trail,  mounting  slowly 
ever,  and  winding  on  through  files  of  piucs  ;  — 
vigorously  wo  chased  on,  as  if  twilight  of  eve 
were  twilight  of  dawn,  and  our  day  but  now 
begun.  r 

Among  tho  silent  pines,  deeper  into  tho  ilprkon- 
ing  wood.  But  tho  same  power  that  swe;»l  dark- 
ness forward  in  a  steady  growinr:  inundatioii, 
banished  also  silence.  The  ov(  rcoming  storm 
was  battling  with  stiUnasSj  and  slowly  enveloping 


iiiii 


H 
I 


I 


254 


THE  CANOE  AND  THE  SADDLE. 


mi 


Rt 


it 


r 

•  '■• 


■Wl 


1 

c 

;) 

1 

■! 

r 

i 

« 

■1 

II 

tlio  strife  with  thicker  and  thicker  pall,  such  as 
hangs  over  fields  trod  by  the  loud  agonies  of 
war. 

A  far  forerunner  of  the  gale  struck  suddenly 
upon  tlie  mountain-front,  like  an  early  sliot  of 
battle,  fired  to  know  the  death  range.  While 
tlie  roar  of  this  first  blast  was  passing  away,  and 
tl»e  trees  were  swaying  back  to  stillness,  a  fugue 
of  growling  winds  came  following  after.  The 
alarmed  whispers  from  leaf  to  leaf  grew  tliicker 
now,  joining  to  an  undertone  of  delicate  wailing 
a  liquid  sound,  but  sad,  like  the  noise  of  a  water- 
fall falling  all  the  hours  into  a  sunless  pool  where 
one  lies  drowned  because  his  life  and  soul  could 
bear  life  and  light  no  longer.  Again,  with  gush 
of  blacker  darkness,  came  a  throng  of  blasts 
tramping  close  ;  and  after  them  was  seeming 
calm,  —  calm  only  in  seeming,  and  filled  with 
the  same  whispers  of  alarm,  the  same  dreary, 
feeble  wail,  and  now  with  sobs  desperate,  irre- 
pressible. 

Fitful  bursts  of  weeping  rain  were  now  com- 
ing thicker,  until  control  ceased,  and  the  floods 
fell  with  no  interval,  borne  on  furiously,  dashing 
against  every  uprigiit  object  as  great  crushing 
wave-walls  smite  on  walls  of  cliff  by  the  sea-side. 
The  surges  of  wind  were  mightier  tiian  the  furi- 
ous rain  drift,  and  with  their  strength  and  their 
roaring  came  the  majesty  of  thunder,  coustunt 


LianXNING   AND   TORCHLIGHT. 


255 


as  llie  wind.  Long  ago,  from  wliero  tlie  clouds 
lay  sjlid  on  the  mountains,  great  booming 
sounds  had  come,  as  if  these  masses  roUing  over 
the  summits  had  struck  with  muHled  crash  upon 
crags  below ;  and  when  those  purple  glooms 
stayed  in  hesitating  poise  u[)on  the  Cascades, 
lightnings  were  passing  in  among  them,  calling 
them  together  for  the  march,  and  signalling  on 
the  laggards.  Now  a  great  outer  continent,  a 
l)elt  of  storm  world,  was  revolving  over  earth, 
and  sliaping  itself  to  the  region  it  traversed.  In 
this  storm  zone,  revealed  by  the  scenic  Hames  of 
neighbor  lightning,  were  mountains  linger  than 
any  ever  heaped  by  Titanic  forces  assaulting 
heaven  from  earth.  Tiiere  were  sudden  clefts, 
and  ravines  with  long  sweeping  flanks,  and 
cliasms  where  a  cloud  mo\ui tain-side  had  fallen 
in,  leaving  a  precipice  all  ragged  and  ruinous, 
ready  itself  to  fall.  There  were  plateaus  and 
surgy  swee[)s  of  cloud-land,  valleys  of  gentleness, 
dtlls  sweet  and  placid,  passes  by  toppling  crags 
from  vale  to  vale,  great  stairways  up  to  Alpine 
levels  on  high,  garden-like  Arcadias  among  hor- 
rent heights,  realms  changefully  s[)lendid,  —  all 
revealed  l>y  the  undulations  of  broad,  rosy  light- 
ning and  lightning's  violet  hues,  where  it  shono 
through  their  gloom  of  clouds.  These  clouds  so 
black  and  terrible,  hurrying  on  a  night  so  black 
and  dreary,  were  not  then  terrible  and  dreary  iu 


•"J 


.1 

i 


256 


THE  CANOE  AND  THE  SADDLE. 


t 

r 
c 
c 

r 


SI 

«i 

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tl 
91 

*l 

II 

r 

11 
■I 

(* 

II 

^1 

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?! 


91 


■•I 


.1 


themselves,  but  only  while  there  was  no  light  to 
prove  their  beauty,  —  when  light  gleamed,  tliey 
shone  transcendent. 

Lightning,  besides  its  business  of  revelation, 
had  some  gymnastic  feats  of  its  own  to  show  the 
world ;  to  spring  at  some  great  round-topped, 
toppling  cloud-crag,  and  down  to  the  valleys  be- 
neath ;  to  shoot  through  tunnels  of  darkness,  and 
across  chasms,  hanging  a  bending  line  of  light 
athwart,  like  the  cable  bridges  of  the  Andes. 

Lightning  was  also  casting  blinding  splendors 
over  the  permanent  world  below  the  storm. 
Wherever  the  trail  bent  toward  the  vantage 
edges  of  the  mountain-side,  every  flash  disclosed 
magnificent  breadth  of  lonely  landscape,  and 
then  the  vision  was  instantly  limited  to  the  dense 
darkness  around,  darker  to  dazzled  eyes.  But 
soon  there  were  no  such  moments  of  darlvness 
nor  any  silence.  Thunder-tone  flowed  into 
thunder-tone,  as  blasts  had  thickened  to  a  gale, 
and  lightning  made  pervading  light,  flickering 
and  unsteady  as  fevered  pulses. 

Sucli  was  the  machinery  of  this  drama,  and  as 
to  the  actors,  I  and  my  party,  what  of  them  ? 

Wet  were  they  all,  yea,  drenched.  And  why 
should  not  a  little  biped  be  drenched  ?  It  is  an 
honor  to  the  like  of  him  that  splendid  phenom- 
ena should  take  the  trouble  to  notice  him  even 
with  ridicule.      And   drenching   by   an   August 


LIGHTNING   AND   TORCHLIGHT. 


25T 


light  to 
d,  they 

elation, 
now  tho 
-topped, 
leys  be- 
less,  and 
of  light 
Lndes. 
plendors 
I    storm. 

vantage 
disclosed 
ipe,  and 
he  dense 
es.     But 

darl.ness 

^c 


thunder-storm  is  not  chilly  misery.  Nor  aro 
men  on  a  hooihnt  considering  damage  to  their 
integuments.  On  a  hooihut,  we  wear  no  tiles 
that  to-morrow  will  be  pulp ;  nor  coats  with 
power  to  shrink  and  never  again  bvi  shapely. 
Therefore,  while  the  air  beat  upon  us  *  ith  elec- 
tric thrills,  and  the  furious  excitements  of  tho 
tempest  were  around  ns,  we  dashed  along  tlio 
narrow  tliread  of  the  trail  between  the  innumer- 
able pines,  —  dashed  along,  acting  with  the  might 
of  the  storm,  as  if  wo  were  a  part  of  it,  and  re- 
acting with  ardors  of  our  own  against  its  fury. 

Ferdinand,  wrapped  in  a  white  blanket,  led 
tlie  way;  Antipodes  followed  as  main  body; 
Klale  and  I  were  the  third  division  of  my  army. 
Flooded  lightning  showed  us  our  slender  path 
winding  up  tlie  illumined  vista,  and  marked 
more  clearly,  in  the  long,  coarse  mountain  grass, 
by  rain  pools. 

For  all  the  ceaselessness  of  flashes  there  would 
sometimes  be  moments  of  utter  darkness,  whci 
the  eyes  closed  involuntarily,  and  tlie  look 
blenched,  confounded  and  dazzled  by  tho  sudden 
gloom.  Then  the  vista  would  disappear,  tho 
path  be  blotted  out,  and  Ferdinand,  white  blan- 
keteer,  be  annulled,  so  far  as  vision  knew.  But 
before  night  could  gain  power  from  j)erniancnco, 
or  my  guide  could  lose  his  last  ocular  image  of 
the  silver  pathway,  again  flashes  went  cvu'ving 


& 


i 


258 


THE   CANOE   AND  TIIE   SADDLE 


« 


41 


■••fc 


H  -1 


it, 

r 

F 


? 


1 


Vli' 


above  us,  the  floods  of  light  poured  forth,  and 
the  forest  was  betrayed  as  if  clear  noon  were 
master. 

The  path  had  now  bent  inward,  away  from  the 
edge  of  the  mountain.  Under  the  roofing  pines 
we  could  see  no  more  the  stormy  pageantry. 
The  straiglit  black  trunks  opened  before  us ;  we 
wore  to  go  on,  on,  guided  by  the  beautiful  ghast- 
lincss  of  lightning,  fit  illumination  of  terrible 
rites  in  the  penetralia  of  this  anymore  forest. 
Very  wet  neophytes  we  should  arrive  in  the 
presence  of  whatever  antique  hierophant  there 
might  be  wonder-working  within  tlie  roofless 
sanctuary  whither  the  lightning  was  leading  us. 

By  this  time  the  grandeurs  of  the  storm  were 
ended.  Madness  and  pangs  died  away  into  sul- 
len grief.  Passion  was  over  ;  tame  realities  were 
coming.  There  had  been  a  majestic  overture 
crowded  with  discordant  concords,  and  there  was 
nothing  left  for  the  opera  but  dull  recitative. 
Ni<»ht  became  undramatic ;  sulky  instead  of  in- 
spired ;  grizzly  instead  of  splendorous.  Solid 
ruin  now  took  the  place  of  atmosphere.  While 
the  storm  rampaged,  it  was  adventurous  and  he- 
roic to  breast  it ;  now  our  journey  became  an 
oilbnsive  plod.  So  long  as  lightning  declared 
the  path,  it  was  exciting  to  chase  therein  ;  our 
present  meaner  guide  was  the  sound  of  our  own 
splashing  in  the  trail. 


LIGHTNING   AND   TORCHLIGHT. 


259 


Ferdinand  still  led  on,  finding  the  way  by 
instinct.  He  could  see  nauglit,  and  1  could  seo 
not  even  him  in  his  white  toga,  except  when 
fomc  belated  flash  of  the  rear-guard  turned  its 
lantern  hither  and  thither,  seeking  its  comrades. 
We  kejjt  together  by  whistling  to  and  fro.  Ob- 
serve this  fact ;  for  it  is  said  that  Indians  do  not 
whistle.  Also  that  they  eat  no  pork.  For  this 
latter  reason  some  have  connected  them  with 
the  Lost  Tribes.  With  regard  to  the  latter 
charge,  I  can  speak  from  a  considerable  range 
of  induction.  Indians  only  eat  no  pork  when 
they  have  no  pork.  Not  one  to  whom  I  have 
offered  that  viand  of  low  civilization  ever  re- 
fused it,  but  clutched  it  with  more  or  less 
ardor,  proportioned  to  his  state  of  repletion  at 
tlie  moment.  My  facts  for  induction  on  whis- 
tling among  the  Red  Men  are  fewer.  This  one, 
however,  1  present  confidently :  Fudnun  the 
BUmketeer  whistled  tunefully. 

Ours  was  but  a  faint  trail,  rarely  traversed, 
often  illegible,  even  by  full  daylight,  to  untrained 
eyes,  as  1  learned  afterwards.  What  wonder, 
then,  tliat  we  wandered  often,  and  that  the  keen- 
ness of  Fudnun's  vision  was  often  tried,  as  he 
peered  about  and  searched  b}  intelligent  zigzags 
ill  the  darkness  of  niglit,  under  the  darkness 
of  pines,  along  the  matted,  muflling  grass,  for  the 
slight  clew   of  our    progress?      What  wonder, 


n 


i 
I 


260 


THE  CANOE  AND  THE  SADDLE. 


C: 


••  - 
•I  - 

r> 

r 


f 

t 


^1 


.1 


Hi 

I 


T 


then,  tliat  at  last  we  erred  totally,  and  searched 
in  vain  ? 

*'  Halo  klap ;  no  find,"  said  Fudnun  the 
Trusty,  coming  back  rather  disconsolate. 

Perforce  of  the  great  controls  of  Nature,  we 
must  submit,  and  take  this  night  involuntary 
rest,  quite  lost  in  the  forest. 

Fudnun  unsaddled.  The  horses  could  show 
no  dislike  to  their  fare.  The  grass  was  long, 
plenteous,  and  every  blade  was  hung  with  lubri- 
cating rain-drops.  Meanwhile,  I,  groping  about, 
found  some  bits  of  punk  and  dry  fuel  in  a  natu- 
ral fireplace  hollowed  in  an  ancient  pine,  one  of 
the  giants.  The  p^enius  loci  here,  being  of  mo- 
notonous cast  of  mind,  had  given  himself  totally 
to  pine  culture.  I  could  see  nothing,  but  I  had 
a  sense  that  immense  rough-barked  pines  were 
standing  all  about,  watching  my  movements,  — 
what  was  1  doing,  grubbing  there  at  the  roots 
of  their  big  brother  ? 

I  was  at  work  to  light  a  fire.  Fire  was  once 
a  thing  to  be  kept  safe  by  vestals ;  but  now  we 
can  do  without  them  ;  fire  sacred  is  cared  for  on 
myriads  of  domestic  hearths  ;  fire  profane  is  in 
our  pantaloons  pocket.  One  may  evoke  it  in 
an  instant,  as  I  did  now.  The  tricksy  sprite 
alighted  in  my  tindery  tipsoo,  and  presently 
involved  my  punk  and  my  chips  and  all  my 
larger  fuel,  as  fast  as  I  could  sock  it,  by  the 
growing  blaze,  among  the  ruins  of  the  forest. 


LIGHT2JING  AXD   TORCHLIGHT. 


261 


Fudnun  took  his  supper,  and  soon  was  asleep, 
coiled  in  a  heap  among  the  saddles.  As  for  me, 
I  watched  and  drowsed,  squatted  before  the  fire, 
mummied  in  my  blankets.  Not  a  position,  cer- 
tainly, for  cheerful  reveries.  A  drizzle,  thick  as 
metaphysics,  surrounded  me.  In  its  glowing 
cavity  was  my  fire,  eating  its  way  slowly  into 
the  dead  old  heart  of  the  tree,  baking  my  face, 
but  not  drying  my  back.  I  was  fortunately  hun- 
gry, and  hunger  is  excellent  entertainment.  A 
hungry  man  has  something  to  think  of,  and  if  he 
is  his  own  cook,  something  to  do.  I  frizzled  my 
pork  and  toasted  my  biscuit-chips ;  then  I  ate  the 
same,  and  that  part  of  the  frolic  was  over.  I 
longed  for  a  tin  cup  of  tea,  well  boiled  and  bitter, 
but  it  was  "  water,  water  everywhere,  and  not  a 
drop  to  drink."  I  could  not  concentrate  the 
drizzle,  nor  collect  the  drops  from  the  grass,  nor 
wring  a  supply  from  my  wet  clothes,  —  no  tea, 
then,  the  best  friend  of  the  campaigner.  Li  fact, 
as  I  could  not  sleep  and  recruit,  and  as  I  was  in 
rather  sorry  plight,  there  was  nothing  to  be  done 
except  to  endure  despondency  and  be  patient. 

Such  pauses  as  this,  midway  in  minor  difii- 
culty,  are  profitable,  if  patience  can  but  come  up 
from  the  rear,  and  marshal  her  sister  faculties 
for  steadier  future  march.  In  such  isolated 
halts  in  a  man's  life,  when  the  future  is  not  so 
certain  as  to  make  him  disdain  the  past,  he  dis* 


ill' 


4 

i 


i 
f 


262 


THE  CANOE  AND  THE  SADDLE. 


c: 


I- 1 


^•' 


Hi" 


«t4 


r 


*• 


r 
t 

f 


■  »i 
I 

:m 

vm 

V 
9 


»».  M» 


covers  the  lessons  there  were  in  empiric  days  or 
years,  of  hurry  and  dash.  In  tlie  lonely  forest, 
dark  with  midnight  and  storms,  whoro  his  firo 
casts  but  a  gloaming  light, —  in  such  a  solitude 
a  man  self-dependent  will  hear  the  oracles  speak 
to  him  if  they  are  to  speak.  He  who  would  ask 
liis  fate  at  Delphi  goes  not  along  the  summer- 
blooming  plains,  nor  in  among  the  vine-clad  trel- 
lises, nor  through  the  groves  of  olives,  gray  and 
ancient  in  gentle  realms  of  Arcady.  The  Del- 
phic gorge  is  stern  and  wild,  and  would  affriglit 
all  but  one  who  is  resolute  to  wring  a  favoral)lo 
fate  from  the  cave  of  prophecy.  Poetic  visions 
do  not  visit  beds  of  roses,  and  no  good  thing  or 
thought  came  out  of  Sybaris. 

So  there,  "lone  upon  the  mountain,  the  pine- 
trees  wailing  round  me,"  I  seemed  to  hear  some 
of  those  great  calming  words  without  which  life 
goes  restless,  and  may  not  dream  of  peace.  For 
early,  thoughtful  years  and  eras  of  ours  are  sad- 
dened and  bewildered  by  the  sting  of  evil,  others' 
and  our  own ;  poisonous  bigotries  grapple  with 
faith  from  its  cradle ;  we  are  driven  along  the 
gantlet  of  selfishness;  love,  the  surest  test  of 
nobleness,  seems  the  most  hopeless  test,  discover- 
ing only  the  ignoble ;  we  dwell  among  comrades 
of  chance,  not  choice,  and  cannot  find  our  allies, 
know  not  any  other  law  of  growth  than  the  un- 
reflecting stir  8^  out  us.     So  instinctive  faith  dies, 


LIGHTNING   AND   TORCHLIGHT. 


263 


and  because  without  faith  the  soul  dies,  we  must 
seek  it,  and  perhaps  wander  for  it  as  far  and  not 
hopefully,  —  wander  perhaps  as  far  as  to  the  for- 
ests of  Taeoma. 

As  I  sat  by  my  fire,  thinking  over  the  wide 
world,  and  feeling  that  I  looked  less  blindly  than 
once  upon  its  mysteries,  suddenly  I  was  visited 
by  a  brilliant  omen. 

All  at  once  the  darksome  forest  became  start- 
lingly  full  of  light.  A  broad  glare  descended 
through  the  lowering  night,  and  shed  about  mo 
strange,  weird  lustre.  1  sprang  up,  and  beheld  a 
pillar  of  flame  hung  on  higli  in  the  gloom. 

An  omen  quite  too  simj)ly  explicable.  I  had 
kindled  my  fire  in  the  hollow  of  a  giant  dead 
trunk.  Flame  slowly  crept  up  within,  burning 
itself  a  way  through  the  dry  core,  until  it  gained 
the  truncated  summit,  sixty  feet  aloft,  and  leaped 
outward  in  a  mighty  flash.  Once  escaped,  after 
its  stealthy  growth,  the  fire  roared  furiously  up 
this  chimney  of  its  own  making.  The  long  flamo 
streamed  away  from  its  gigantic  torch,  lashing, 
among  the  trees  and  tossing  gleams,  sparks  and 
great  red  flakes  into  the  inner  glooms  of  the 
wood.  Nobler  such  an  exit  for  one  of  the  forest 
primeval  than  to  rot  away  and  be  a  century  in 
slow  dying.  His  brethren  around  watched  som- 
brely the  funeral  pyre  of  their  brother.  Their 
moaning  to  the  wind  mingled  with  the  roar  of 
his  magnificent  death-song. 


it. 


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264 


THE  CANOE  AND  THE  SADDLE. 


Trust  Nature.  Nono  of  the  thaumaturgists, 
strong  iu  magical  splendors,  ever  devised  such  a 
spectacle  as  this.  I  had  fought  my  way,  a  press- 
ing devotee,  into  the  inner  shrine,  unbullied  by 
the  blare  of  the  tempest,  and  this  was  the  boon 
offered  by  Nature  to  celebrate  my  initiation. 

Tlie  fire  roared,  and  there  was  another  roar- 
ing. Ferdinand  snored  roaringly  from  his  coiled 
position  among  the  traps.  A  snore  is  the  ex- 
pression of  gratitude  for  sleep,  not  less  genuine 
for  its  unconsciousness.  Every  breath  is  a  plau- 
dit to  Morpheus,  the  burlesque  of  a  sigh  of  joy. 
Snoring  is  to  sleep  what  laughter  is  to  waking. 
Fudnun's  snore  in  the  solitary  woods,  among 
the  great  inarticulate  facts  of  nature,  was  society 
and  conversation.  He  seemed  to  utter  amens  of 
content  in  long-drawn  cadence. 

As  I  could  not  take  my  tall  torch  in  hand  and 
be  a  path-finder,  I  patrolled  about  the  woods, 
admiring  it  where  it  stood,  a  brilliant  beacon. 
The  blossom  of  flame  still  unfolded,  unfading, 
and  as  leaf  after  leaf  fell  away  like  the  petals 
of  roses,  other  petals  opened  about  the  uncon- 
sumed  bud.  Firelight  gave  rich  greenness  to 
the  dark  pines.  Sometimes  a  higher  quiver  of 
flame  would  seize  an  overhanging  branch  and 
sally  off  gayly ;  but  the  blast  soon  extinguished 
these  escapades. 

Fire  gnaws  quicker  than  the  tooth  of  Time. 


LIGirrXING    AND    TOKCIIMGUT. 


2Go 


iurgists, 
.  such  a 
a  press- 
illicd  by 
,ho  boon 
latiou. 
ler  roar- 
lis  coiled 
the  cx- 
geiiuiiio 
is  a  plau- 
r\\  of  joy. 
)  waking, 
s,  among 
as  society 
ameiis  of 


I  was  sitting,  drowsy  and  cowering,  near  my  fur- 
naco,  wlieii  a  warning  noise  aroused  me.  A 
catastroplie  was  at  hand.  Flames  grew  intenser, 
and  careered  with  leaps  more  frai\tic,  as  now, 
with  a  riving  uproar,  the  giant  old  trunk  cut 
away  at  its  base,  cracked,  trembled,  swayed,  and 
foil  in  sublime  ruin.  At  tiiis  strange  tumult, 
loud  and  harsh  in  the  dull  dead  of  night,  the 
horses,  affrighted,  looked  up  witli  tlie  light  of  the 
flame  in  their  eyes,  and  then  dashed  off  furiously. 

Fudnun  also  was  startled.  He  woke ;  ho  un- 
coiled ;  he  stared  ;  he  grunted  ;  he  recoiled ;  he 
slept ;  he  snored. 

Mouldering  away  in  cheerless  ruin  lay  the 
trunk  all  along  in  the  dank  grass.  Its  glory  had 
quenched  itself  in  time,  for  now,  Aurora  being 
ill  the  sulks,  a  fusty  dawn,  the  slipshod  drudge 
of  her  palace,  was  come  as  substitute  for  the 
rosy  goddess,  to  wake  the  world  to  malecontent; 
Enchantment  was  perished.  My  torch,  bright 
flarer  through  darkness,  became  mere  kitchen 
fuel.  Fudnun  awoke  to  snore  no  more.  He 
squatted  in  a  mass,  warming  his  musty  members 
after  their  bedrizzled  cramps  of  the  night.  Then 
we  toasted  our  pork  over  the  embers,  completing 
the  degradation  of  the  pine.  It  had  had  its  cen- 
turies of  dignity,  while  its  juniors,  lengthening 
upward  ungainly,  envied  its  fair  proportions. 
Then  the  juniors  had  times  of  rejoicing  within 

13 


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THE   CAXOK   AND   TIIK   SADDLE. 


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their  cortex,  in  their  vegetable  hearts,  when  glory 
of  foliage  fell  away  from  their  senior's  crown, 
and  larger  share  of  sunliglit  came  to  the  hungry 
youngsters.  And  now  the  junior  pines  were  in 
high  feather  that  an  unsightly  monument  of  tho 
past  and  memento  mori  was  gone,  and  lay  a  ver- 
tebrated  skeleton  of  white  ashes  iii  the  glade  it 
sheltered  so  fatherly  ouce. 


XIII. 


THE  DALLES.  — THEIR  LEGEND. 


Elale  the  ardent,  Gubbins  the  punchy,  An- 
tipodes the  lubberly,  had  not  stampeded  far  in 
their  panic  when  the  great  pine-tree  torch  fell 
crashing  through  the  woods.  Fudnun  easily 
recovered  them  by  the  light  of  dawn,  —  three 
horses  well  fed  and  well  rested,  three  sinewy 
nags,  by  no  means  likely  to  bo  scant  of  breath 
through  Falstaffian  fatness,  but  yet  stanch,  and 
able  to  travel  the  last  thirty  or  forty  miles  of  my 
journey  before  nightfall. 

Prayerful  for  sunrise  and  sun-boru  ardors  in 
that  dull  dawn  were  horses  and  men.  Cold  is  a 
bitter  foe  of  courage ;  hot  blood  is  the  only  brave 
blood.  All  five  of  us,  the  grazers  three,  the 
snorer  one,  and  the  one  drowsy  watcher,  still 
trembled  with  the  penetrating  chill  of  drizzle  on 
the  bleak  mountain-top.  Wo  might  not  have 
the  instinctive  cheerfulness,  child  and  nursling 
of  sunshine,  but  we  soon,  by  way  of  substitute, 
made  an  inspiriting  discovery,  —  the  trail.  Like 
many  an  exit  from  life's  labyrinths,  it  was  hidden 


2G8 


THE  CANOE  AND  THE  SADDLE. 


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only  for  want  of  searching  with  more  light. 
We  pounced  upon  its  first  faint  indications,  and 
went  at  such  full  speed  as  a  night  of  damp  and 
cramp  permitted,  witli  as  much  lirra  lirra  in  our 
matin  song  of  march  as  might  ring  through  the 
vocal  pipes  of  knights-errant  carrying  colds  in 
their  heads. 

"  Nika  klap  ;  find  um,"  Fudnun  had  shouted, 
with  a  triumphant  burst  of  laughter,  when  ho 
caught  sight  of  the  trail,  lurking  serpentine  in 
the  grass ;  and  now,  having  recovered  his  reputa- 
tion as  a  path-finder,  he  would  not  lose  it  again. 
With  single-minded  accuracy  he  kept  this  oiio 
object  in  view.  He  fairly  shamed  my  powers 
of  observation  by  his  quick,  unerring  glance. 
Shrewd  detective,  he  was  nc  .r  at  fault  wher- 
ever that  eluding  pain  dodged  ai-tfuUy,  and  bo- 
came  but  a  shattered  clew  of  escape.  If  ever 
the  hooihut  disappeared  totally,  like  a  rivulet 
sinking  under  ground,  Fudnun,  as  if  he  bore  a 
witch-hazel  divining-rod^  made  straight  for  the 
spot  of  its  reappearanco.  Sometimes  for  a  mile 
there  would  bo  no  visible  way,  and  I,  seeing  my 
guide  still  galloping  on  confidently  under  tlic 
l)ines,  over  the  dry  brown  carpet  of  their  fallen 
leaves,  would  call  him,  and  say, — 

"  Halo  mitlite  hooihut ;  here  's  no  trail." 
"  Nawitka,  closche  nika  nanitch ;  yes,  I  sec  it 
well,"  Fudnun  would   reply,  pointing  where  a 


THE  DALLES.  —  TIIKIR   LEGEND. 


269 


root  had  been  scraped  by  a  hoof,  or  a  tuft  of  moss 
kicked  up,  or  the  brown  pine-leave^  trodden  to  a 
yellower  tint ;  and  presently,  in  softer  ground,  tho 
path  would  again  declare  itself  distinctly,  like  a 
pleasant  association  reawakening  in  moments  of 
tundcrness.  Thus  we  hastened  on  through  tho 
open  pine  woods,  gaining  distance  merely.  Wo 
fled  on  between  tedious  ranks  of  yellow  pines, 
with  a  raw  wind  chasing  us  and  growing  icier,  as 
we  rode  out  upon  tho  bare,  shelterless  slopes  of 
the  lower  regions. 

And  by  and  by,  as  the  trail  disentangled  itself 
from  forest  and  mountain,  lo,  in  houseless  wilds, 
a  house  !  an  architectural  log  cabin. 

"  Whose  house,  Fudnun  ?  What  outpost  sentry- 
box  of  Boston  camj)s  to  come  ?  '* 

It  is  the  house  of  Skloo,  Telamon  of  the  Yaki- 
maks,  as  Owhhigh  is  their  Diomed,  tlie  horse-thief, 
and  Kamaiakan  their  groat-hearted  Agamemnon  ; 
no  advanced  post  of  Boston  men,  but  a  refuge  of 
the  siwashos,  between  two  fires  of  pale-faces  ad- 
vancing westward  and  eastward. 

The  cabin  was  deserted.  Skloo  and  the  braves 
of  Skloo  were  gone  over  moor  and  fell,  gone  by 
caHon  and  [)rairie,  gone  after  salmon,  grassliop- 
pers,  berries,  kamas,  —  after  all  Indian  luxuries 
and  wants,  including  j)illago  of  pasaiooks  and 
foes  of  their  own  color,  when  to  l)e  had  without 
peril.     The  cabin  of  Telamon  Skloo  stood,  lonely 


a* 
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270 


THE  CANOE  AND  THE  SADDLE. 


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■'I 


and  deserted,  in  a  spot  where  tlio  world  looked 
large,  and  yellow  prairies  rushed  out  of  tlio 
forest,  billowing  broadly  southward,  toward  the 
desolate  ranges,  walls  of  the  Cohimbia.  As  well, 
perhaps,  that  Skloowas  an  absentee  and  his  house 
shut ;  Skloo,  with  a  house  on  his  back  and  a  roof 
over  his  head,  would  have  been  totally  neutral- 
ized as  a  nomad  chief.  He  would  have  lost 
Skloo  the  Klickatat  rover,  with  whatever  interest 
or  value  he  had  in  that  relation,  and  have  been 
precipitated  to  the  level  of  any  Snooks  in  Chris- 
tendom, dweller  in  villa  or  box. 

I  did  not  envy  Skloo  his  stationary  property 
of  house  ;  certain  mobile  chattels  of  his  I  did 
envy  him  greatly.  A  band  of  his  horses  were 
feeduig  in  this  spot  of  the  unfenced  world.  They 
did  not  heed  our  roadster  passage  as  we  draggled 
by,  much  the  worse  for  wearing  travel.  They 
noticed  us  no  more  than  a  wary  old  grouse  no- 
tices a  gunless  man.  Antipodes  felt  the  thoiiglit- 
less  dolt  stir  again  within  him  ;  he  forgoL  how  ho 
had  been  taught  who  was  his  master,  and,  with 
packs  flapping  like  rapid  pinions,  he  bolted,  to 
join  that  free  cavalcade.  Fudnun  instantly  edu- 
cated him  severely  back  into  line. 

Just  then,  over  a  swell  of  tlie  ripe,  yellow 
prairie,  came  at  full  speed,  on  a  coal-black  horse, 
a  young  Indian,  with  his  long  hair  uncovered  and 
Btreaming  in  the  wind  as  he  galloped.     On   ho 


THE  DALLES.  —  THKIR   LEGEND. 


271 


rscs  woro 


rodo, --a  cavalier  free  and  bold,  witliout  saddle 
or  stirrups,  whirling  his  lasso  with  arm  out- 
Btretchcd.  IIo  made  straiglit  for  the  band  of 
grazinj^  horses,  and  tlic  iinwarning  blast  blow 
from  them  toward  him,  as  they  stood  curiously 
watching  our  sJow  tninif)  along  the  trail.  So  tlic 
untamed  horses  of  Skloo's  prairie  did  not  sniff 
or  see  or  hear  the  new-com(jr  until  he  was  close 
upon  them  and  the  whiz  of  his  whirling  lasso 
sang  in  their  ears.  Then  they  tossed  their  [»roud 
heads,  shook  their  i)luiuago  of  niano,  and,  with  a 
snort  of  disgust  at  their  unwatchfulness,  sprang 
into  full  speed  of  fliglit.  They  bent  toward  u.-?, 
and  crossed  the  trail  not  a  hundred  yards  before 
us.  Their  pursuer  was  riding  almost  parallel 
with  them.  As  they  dashed  by,  he  flung  his 
lasso  at  a  noble  black,  g;'Jloping  with  head  elato 
and  streaming  mane  and  tail. 

The  loop  of  the  lasso,  preserving  its  circle 
with  geometrical  accuracy,  seemed  to  hang  an 
instant  in  the  air,  waiting  for  its  certain  cap- 
tive. 

Will  he  be  taken  ?     Must  he  be  enthralled  ? 

Not  so.  A  glorioi's  escape  !  While  ti»e  loop 
of  the  lasso  hung  poised,  the  black  had  sprung 
through  it  unerringly  —  straight  throiigh  its  opt* n 
circle,  —  touching  it  only  to  spurn  with  his 
hindmost  hoof,  and  then  with  the  excitement 
of  his  success  ho   burst  forward,  and   took   tho 


r 

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272 


THE  CANOE  AND  THE  SADDLE. 


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lead  of  all  that  wild  throng,  dashing  on  like  the 
wind.* 

But  not  at  all  for  this  failure  and  overcast  did 
tlie  speed  of  the  headlong  chaser  lessen.  Ho 
did  not  even  turn  for  my  aj)plause  at  tlio  circus- 
like "act  of  horsemanship"  he  liad  alforded  mo 
in  this  spacious  amphitheatre.  His  j)Owerful  coal- 
black  horse  still  sped  on  fleet  as  before,  closo 
upon  the  particolored  regiment,  and  the  rider 
had  his  lasso  quickly  in  hand,  and  coiled  for  u 
fresh  cast,  more  cautious.  Far  as  we  could  see 
over  the  undulations  of  the  tawny  plain,  so  beau- 
tifully l)oundless,  the  herd  was  stretcliing  on, 
ratlicr  in  joyous  escapade  than  coward  flight ; 
and  just  apart  from  them,  their  pursuer  still 
held  tireless  and  inevitable  gallop,  —  his  right 
arm  raised  and  whirling  with  imperceptible  mo- 
tion the  lasso,  now  invisible  in  the  distance. 

My  good-will  was  with  the  dappled  herd  of 
runaways,  rather  than  with  the  bronze  horseman 
in  chase.  The  capture  of  any  wild  stampedcr 
would  begin  or  renew  his  history  of  maltreat- 
ment, as  some  of  them  already  knew  from  past 
experience,  and  were  flying  now  with  remem- 
brance of  abuse  as  well  as  for  the  instinct  of 
freedom.  There  are  no  absolutely  wild  horses 
in  the  Northwest.  All  the  cavalier  Indians  have 
their  numerous  bands  of  horses,  broken  and  uii- 

•  See  John  Brent,  a  tale  by  Theotloro  Winthrop. 


TIIK  DALLRS.  —  TIIKIR   LEGKND. 


273 


t)roken,  and  wild  enough,  following  the  nomad 
movements  of  the  tribe.  It  is  a  rough,  punchy, 
hardy  stock,  utterly  unkempt  and  untaught,  but 
capable  of  taking  care  of  itself,  and  capable  also, 
according  to  tlie  law  of  barbarism,  of  producing 
chance  individuals  of  size,  strength,  and  beauty. 
Bucephalus  is  the  exception ;  llosinante  the  rule. 
IJuceplialus  is  worth  a  first-class  scpiuw,  or  pos- 
bil)ly  two  of  those  vexatious  luxuries  of  a  cheaper 
grade.  Rosinantei;  go  about  five  to  the  squaw. 
Papa  gets  the  price  ;  not  as  in  civilization,  where, 
when  a  squaw  sells  herself  for  a  Bucephalus,  a 
brougham,  and  a  black  coachman,  she  keeps  and 
uses  the  ccjuivalent.  And  now  that  I  am  on 
the  taritf  for  squaws,  —  dry  goods  buy  them  in 
Siwashdom  as  sometimes  in  Christendom.  The 
conventional  price  is  expressed  ia  blankets. 
Blankets  paid  to  papa,  buy :  five,  a  cheap  and 
uncb'an  article,  a  drudge ;  ten,  a  tolerable  arti- 
cle, a  cook  and  basket-maker;  twenty,  a  fine 
article  of  squaw,  learned  in  the  kamasbeds, 
and  with  skull  fiat  as  a  shingle;  fifty,  a  very  su- 
perior article,  rud  'y  with  vermilion  and  skilled 
ill  embroidering  hu  ;ki  kin  with  porcupine-quills  ; 
and  one  hundred  blankets,  t  princess,  witii  the 
beauty  and  accomplishments  of  her  rank.  Aroth- 
ors  in  civilization  wiM  be  pleased  to  conq»aro 
those  with  their  current  rates, 
iSkloo's  prairie    and    the     region    thereabouts 


m 


274 


THE  CAXOE  AND  THE  SADDLE. 


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merits  tenants  more  numerous  than  stray  bands 
of  mustangs.  Succulent  bunch-grass  grows  tliero 
in  plenty  for  legions  of  graminivora  to  fatten 
on,  as  they  take  gentle,  wholesome  exercise 
over  the  hillocks.  It  was  by  far  the  most  pro 
pitious  country  I  had  seen  this  side  the  moun- 
tains, and  will  make  a  valuable  cattle  range. 

At  present,  exercise,  and  not  grazing,  was  the 
business  of  my  cattle.  We  must  hold  to  our 
unflagging  march  for  a  few  hours  more.  But 
prostration  after  my  night  watch,  and  straining 
of  mind  and  body  for  many  days,  was  over- 
coming me.  I  was  still  wet,  cold,  and  weary, 
hardly  capable  of  observati(m,  the  most  instinc- 
tive of  healthy  human  faculties.  It  was  now 
eleven  o'clock  of  the  thirty-first  of  August.  The 
sky  began  to  clear  with  tumultuous  power.  Mas- 
sive black  battalions  of  cloud  came  rushing  by 
from  the  reserves  of  storm  tliat  still  were  en- 
camped u|)on  the  mountain  strongliolds  west- 
ward. Every  gloomy  cloud  trailed  a  blast,  chil- 
ling as  Sarsar,  the  icy  wind  of  death.  Between 
these  mo'uents  of  torture,  the  sun  of  Augu.4 
came  fortii  tlirough  vistas  of  blinding  white  va- 
j)or,  and  fevered  me.  I  grew  suddenly  sick  witli 
a  despair  like  death.  Fudnun  was  descending  a 
slope  some  distance  before  me,  driving  Antij;odcs 
laboriously  along.  I  essayed  to  shout  to  him, 
but  my  voice  choked  with  a  sneering,  fiendish 


TIIE   DALLES  — TFIKIR    LEGEND. 


275 


rattle,  as  if  contoinpt  of  my  soul  at  its  mean 
jailor,  my  poor  failinjr,  tlyiiig  l>o(ly.  1  clutched 
vainly  at  tlic  coil  of  my  luriut  by  my  saddle 
horn,  and  fell  f^enseless. 

1  slept  throu^li  a  brief  death  to  a  blissful 
resurrection.  Awakin*^  slowly,  J  doubted  at  lirst 
whether  1  were  not  now  released  from  earthly 
trammels,  for  tin^less  toil  in  a  life  immortal. 
First,  I  perceived  that  1  was  conscious  ;  there- 
fore I  still  was  in  being.  Quickly  the  tremulous 
blood,  in  every  fibre  and  cell,  told  me  that  1  was 
still  an  organized  being,  possessed  of  members 
like  those  old  familiar  ones,  my  agents  in  win- 
ning undying  thoughts.  Next,  my  eyes  unclosed, 
and  1  saw  the  fair  sky.  Witli  my  senses  new- 
born, my  first  discovery  of  external  facts  was 
tiie  illimitable  heaven,  bright  with  evanescent 
wreaths  of  clouds,  white  and  virginal.  Whotiier, 
tlicii,  this  wore  a  new  world  where  1  had 
nwakeneil,  or  the  world  of  my  ancient  tenancy, 
1  Ivuew  that  the  well-!:nown  laws  of  beauty 
reigned,  and  1  need  not  here  apostatize  from 
old  loves  and  old  faiths.  Life  went  on  slowly 
reviving,  drawing  vigor  from  the  air,  and  action, 
the  token  of  life,  became  a  noc  ssity.  1  stirred 
feebly,  l.ke  a.  cbikl.  The  rustle  of  my  first 
uii)\ement  called  out  a  synijtathetic  stir.  An- 
oilier  organization  in  the  outer  world  took  note 
of  me.     1  felt  a  warm  puif  upon  my  cheek,  and 


i 


276 


THE  CANOE  AND  THE  SADDLE. 


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the    nose   of    Klalo   the    Trustj  bent   over   mo 
inquisitively. 

'Tlie  situation  was  now  systematically  ex 
plained.  1  was  my  old  self,  on  the  old  eartli ; 
wliolly  satisfactory,  wliether  desirable  or  not. 
Let  us  at  least  know  wln^re  we  stand,  —  what 
are  our  facts;  then,  if  there  is  anything  to  lio 
done  with  ourselves,  or  made  of  our  facts,  re 
can  make  the  attempt. 

Something  toward  self-restoration  may  be  done 
even  by  a  passive,  su])ine  weakling,  lying  among 
bunch-grass,  on  a  solitary  prairie,  leagues  away 
from  a  house,  —  an  unpromising  set  of  circum- 
stances. I  was  at  present  a  very  valueless  world- 
ling. But  tlie  world  that  takes  us  and  mars  us 
has  also  to  make  us  again.  Unless  our  breakage 
is  voluntary,  determined,  and  habitual,  wo  shall 
mend.  Not  behind  corpulent  bottles,  purple, 
crimson,  and  blue,  in  a  shop  wliere  there  is 
a  putty-faced  youth  with  a  pestle  and  a  redo- 
lence of  rhubarb,  are  kept  the  great  agents  of 
Nature,  —  our  mother,  father,  —  who  as  mother 
gives  us  life,  and  as  father  warns,  flogs,  cures, 
and  guides  us  with  severe  tenderness.  Air, 
liglit,  and  water  are  the  trinity  of  simple  rouio- 
dies,  not  sold  in  the  shops,  for  making  a  marred 
man  new  and  whole  again.  These  three  medi- 
cines were  liberally  provided  near  my  fainting- 
fit on  the  prairie. 


THE  DALLKS.  —  THEIR   LEGEND. 


277 


over   rao 


The  first  thing  I  Imd  to  do,  to  bo  changed 
from  a  limp  olyect  to  a  robust  man,  was  only 
passive  action.  I  was  to  breatlio  and  to  bask. 
And  when  I  had  sufficiently  sutTered  the  infiu- 
once  of  air  and  light,  Nature's  next  potent 
remedy  was  awaiting  me.  I  heard  the  welcomo 
trickle  of  water  near  at  hand,  —  delicious,  win- 
some sound,  hardly  less  articulate  than  the  tones 
of  a  beloved  voice  calling  me  to  a  presence  that 
should  bo  refroshment  and  full  renovation.  I 
could  not  walk,  but  I  dragged  myself  along  to- 
ward tiko  source  of  sound,  Klalo  following,  an 
uncontrolled  friend. 

Sweet  water-music  guided  mo  to  a  neighbor 
rivulet.  It  came  singing  along  tlie  bosomy  swells 
of  prairie,  fondling  its  long,  graceful  fringes 
of  grass,  curving  and  returning,  that  it  migiit 
not  lose,  with  too  much  urgency,  tlio  self- 
possessed  delight  of  motion  along  the  clastic 
softncf^s  of  its  cushioned  bed.  If  tliero  were 
anywhere  above  in  this  brook's  career  turmoil 
and  turbulence,  it  sutTered  no  worse  consequence 
tiiun  that  it  must  carry  along  a  reminiscence  of 
riot,  quickly  soothed,  in  files  of  bright  bubl)les, 
witli  their  skulls  fuller  than  tliey  could  l)ear  of 
uiicroscopic  imiiges  of  all  the  outer  world.  Each 
bubble  was  so  crowded  with  refii^ctions  from  tho 
zenith,  that  it  must  share  its  bursting  sympathy, 
aud   marry  with   every  bubble  it  overtook  and 


• 

4 


278 


Tin:   CANOK   AND   THE   SADDLE. 


C;: 

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toucliod,  until  it  became  so  full  of  fautas^^ios  that 
it  must  merrily  oxplodo  aiid  be  resolved  into  a 
drop  and  a  sunl)eam. 

The  countless  cbarni  of  water,  so  sweetly  sliin- 
inji;  forth  its  (piality  of  refresinnent,  revived  mo 
even  before  I  conhi  stoop  and  taste.  I  sank  and 
lapped.     1  l»ailied  away  the  fever  from  my  brow, 


and  let  the  warm,  hcNilthy  sunsbnio  cherish  me. 

In  eldest  days,  li.id  1  drooped  l)y  a  Ilippocreno 
like  this,  a  nymph  had  surely  emerged  from 
nn)on<^  the  ripples  and  laid  her  coolin<^  hand 
upon  me  jrently,  givin«^  me  for  al!  my  mortal 
days  a  guardian  vision  of  immortality.  In 
youn«rer  time,  then,  bad  I  perchance  boon  blessed 
with  healing  at  the  haiuls  of  some  maiden  leech, 
a   Una,   unerrinul 


dy 


T 


(y  fi 


cM'e 


white  palfrey,  hither  where  a  kni<::lit  was  sore 
bestead.  Now,  Nature  luirbcd  me,  and  I  grew 
strong  airain. 

But  let  us  bethink  ourselves,  Klale,  "  my  trus- 
\Ve  were  five  ;  we  are  two.  Where 
are  the  three?  Where  is  Fudnun,  the  Incor- 
rui)tible,  the  Path-finder,  the  Merry?  Where 
Antipodes?     Where  Oubl)ins? 

Where?  Here!  Here,  ]>oliing  down  the  slope, 
ovc  joyed,  comes  Fudnun,  with  whinnying  nags. 
He  nad  advanced  sbiepily,  givinii;  his  whole  Uiind 
U  iliiving  Antij)odes,  until  that  ri'lui;tant  steed, 
pretending   to   grow  uidiuppy  that   Klale   and  i 


atios  tlial 
jd  iutu  a 

ctly  sliin- 
vived  mo 
smik  and 
uiy  l)ro\v, 
l•i^ll  me. 
ippoci'ono 
•;;ed  from 
iiig  luiiid 
\y  mortal 
ilitv.  Ill 
LMi  hlesscd 
Ion  leech, 
II  a  milk- 
was  sore 
id  I  grew 

'  my  trus- 
Whero 

10  Iiicor- 
Wliero 

llic  slope, 
iug  nii«xs. 
lolii  mind 
lilt  steed, 


THE     tALLES  — THEIR   LEGEND. 


27  i) 


were  missing Jjolted  to  tlio  rear;  wliercnpon  Fud- 
nnn  perceived  my  absence,  and  turned  to  recover 
me,  dead  or  alive. 

**  Nika  kulapi ;  I  wheel  ahout,"  said  ho,  "  halo 
nanitch ;  see  nauglit.  Cultus  nika  turn  turn; 
feeble  grows  my  heart.  Pose  mika  mendoose ; 
pcrhaj)s  you  dead.  Nika  mamook  stick  copa 
k'Oulnis;  1  ply  stick  on  (ilui)bins,"  —  and  ho 
continued  to  describe  how  he  had  found  the  s|)ot 
of  my  fall,  and  my  gun  iyiiig  there,  and  had 
loUowrd  my  trail  tbrougli  the  long  grass.  Not, 
1  am  sure,  with  hopes  of  my  scalj)  and  my  plunder 
without  a  battle.  Fudnun  was  honest,  and,  fmd- 
iiig  me  safe,  he  relieved  himself  by  uproarious 
liiunbter. 

'J'ijcre  is  magnetism  in  society,  even  a  Fud- 
iiun's.  Strength  came  (piicker  to  my  flaccid 
tissues.  I  thought  of  myjourn(*y's  end,  not  far 
(»lf,  and  toiled  up  tiiat  di-ead  ascent  into  my  sad- 
dle. Klalo  trudged  along,  and  soon  perceiving 
that  1  swayed  aboui,  no  more,  and,  instead  of 
clinging  with  both  hands  to  my  saddle,  sat  up- 


rigiit  and   held   the   bridle,  he   paced  gradually 
into  his  cradling  lope. 

l>y    the    hearty    aid    of   noon,    the    Cascades 
put   their  shoulders   to  the   clouds,   lifted    them 
and  cut  them  to  piece's  willi  their  peaks,  so  that 
llie  wind  couUl  come  iii,  like  a  charge  of  cavahy, 
ie   and  1      I    aud  auiiihilato   the    broken  phalanxes.      Mount 


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33  WEST  MAIN  STREET 

WEBSTER,  NY.  14580 

(716)  872-4503 


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280 


THE  CANOE  AND  THE  SADDLE. 


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If 

Adams.  Tacoma  the  Less,  was  the  first  object  to 
cleave  the  darkness.  I  looked  westward,  and  saw 
a  snnlit  mass  of  white,  high  up  among  the  black 
clouds,  and  baseless  but  for  them.  It  would 
have  seemed  itself  a  cloud,  but,  while  the  dark 
volumes  were  heaving  and  shifting  about  it,  this 
was  permanent.  While  I  looked,  the  mountain 
and  the  sun  became  evident  victors  ;  the  glooms 
fell  away,  were  scattered  and  scourged  into 
nothingness,  and  the  snow-peak  stood  forth  ma- 
jestic, the  sole  arbiter  of  this  realm.  The  yel- 
low prairies  rolled  up  where  the  piny  Cascades, 
dwarfed  by  distance,  were  a  dark  ridge  upon  the 
horizon,  and  the  overtopping  bulk  of  Tacoma 
rose  directly  from  them,  a  silver  mountain  from 
a  golden  sea.  No  tameness  of  thought  is  possi- 
ble here,  even  if  prairie-land  lies  dead  level  for 
leagues,  when  on  its  edge  the  untamed  forces  of 
Nature 'have  set  up  these  stately  monuments. 
More  than  a  hundred  miles  away  on  the  trans- 
continental journey,  more  than  a  hundred  miles 
away  on  the  sea,  these  noble  isolated  snow-peaks 
are  to  a  traveller  memorials  of  the  land  he  has 
left,  or  beacons,  firmer  than  a  pillar  of  cloud, 
of  a  land  whither  he  goes. 

Again  I  thought  of  the  influence  of  this  most 
impressive  scenery  upon  its  future  pupils  among 
men.  The  shape  of  the  world  has  controlled  or 
guided  men's  growth  ;  tlie  look  of  the  world  has 


THE  DALLES.  —  THEIR  LEGEND. 


281 


hardly  yet  begun  to  have  its  effect  upon  spiritual 
progress.  Multitudes  of  agents  have  always  been 
at  work  to  poison  and  dwarf  poets  and  artists  in 
those  inspiring  regions  of  earth  where  nature 
means  they  shall  grow  as  naturally  as  water-lilies 
by  a  lake,  or  palms  above  the  thicks  of  tropic 
woods.  Civilized  mankind  has  never  yet  had  a 
fresh  chance  of  developing  itself  under  grand 
and  stirring  influences  so  large  as  in  the  North- 
west. 

"  Yah  wah,  enetee,"  said  Fudnun,  pointing  to 
a  great  surging  hill  a  thousand  feet  high,  "  rait- 
lite  skookoom  tsuk,  k'Lumby  tsuk  ;  there,  across, 
is  the  mighty  water,  Columbia  River." 

One  more  charge  up  this  Titanic  bastion,  and  I 
could  fairly  shout.  Victory !  and  Time  beaten  in 
the  race  by  a  length !  Up,  then,  my  squad  of 
cavalry.  Clamber  up  the  grassy  slope,  Klale 
the  untiring.  Stumble  forward,  k'Gubns,  on 
thy  last  legs.  Plod  on.  Antipodes,  in  the  de- 
spairing sulks.  If  ye  are  weary,  am  I  not  wea- 
rier? Have  I  not  died  once  to-day?  Beyond 
this  mighty  earthwork  is  a  waste  and  desolate 
valley ;  if  I  am  to  perish,  let  me  die  on  the  edge 
of  appropriate,  infernal  scenery,  such  as  I  know 
of  beyond  that  hill.  And  that  great  river,  brief- 
est of  the  master  streams  of  earth,  if  it  be  not 
Styx  to  us,  shall  be  Lethe.  Klale,  my  jolly  imp, 
k'Gubns,    my  honest    servitor,    Antipodes,  my 


If 

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282 


THE  CANOE  AND  THE  SADDLE. 


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recalcitrant  Caliban,  Lethe  is  at  hand.  Across 
that  current  an  Elysium  awaits  us,  as  good  an 
Elysium  as  the  materials  permit,  and  there  what- 
ever can  be  found  of  asphodel  or  horse-fodder 
shall  be  your  meed,  and  ye  shall  repose  until  ye 
start  again. 

Such  a  harangue  roused  the  drooping  quad- 
rupeds. We  travelled  up  the  steep,  right  in  the 
teeth  of  hot  blasts,  baked  in  the  rocky  cells  of 
the  valley  beyond,  and  pouring  over  to  meet  us 
like  putfs  from  deadly  batteries  upon  the  summit. 
We  climbed  for  a  laborious  hour,  and  paused  at 
last  upon  the  crest.  .      ,   .  .        , 

Behind  was  the  vast,  monotonous  plain  of  my 
morning's  march.  Distant  behind  were  the 
rude,  difficult  mountains  I  had  crossed  so  pain- 
fully ;  and  more  distant  westward  were  the  main 
Cascades,  with  their  snow-peaks  calm  and  sol- 
emnly radiant.  Of  all  this  I  was  too  desperately 
worn  out  to  take  much  appreciative  notice.  The 
scene  before  me  was  in  closer  sympathy  with  my 
mood. 

Before  me  was  a  region  like  the  Valley  of 
Death,  rugged,  bleak,  and  severe.  A  tragical 
valley,  where  the  fiery  forces  of  Nature,  impotent 
to  attain  majestic  combination,  and  build  monu- 
ments of  peace,  had  fallen  into  despairs  and 
ugly  warfare.  A  valley  of  anarchy,  —  a  confes- 
siou  that  harmony  of  the  elements  was  hopeless 


THE  DALLES.  —  THEIR  LEGEND. 


283 


here,  and  that  the  toil  of  Nature  for  cycles  work- 
ing a  world  out  of  chaos,  had  failed,  and  achieved 
only  a  relapse  into  ruin,  drearier  than  chaos. 

Racked  and  battered  crags  stood  disorderly 
over  all  that  rough  waste.  Tliere  were  no  trees, 
nor  any  masses  of  vegetation  to  soften  the  sever- 
ities of  the  landscape.  All  was  harsh  and  deso- 
late, even  with  the  rich  sun  of  an  August  after- 
noon doing  what  it  might  to  empurple  the 
scathed  fronts  of  rock,  to  gild  the  ruinous  piles 
with  summer  glories,  and  throw  long  shadows 
veiling  dreariness.  I  looked  upon  the  scene  with 
the  eyes  of  a  sick  and  weary  man,  unable  to  give 
that  steady  thought  to  mastering  its  scope  and 
detail  without  wliich  any  attempt  at  artistic  de- 
scription becomes  vague  generalization. 

My  heart  sank  within  me  as  the  landscape 
compelled  me  to  be  gloomy  like  itself.  It  was 
not  the  first  time  I  had  perused  the  region  under 
desolating  auspices.  In  a  log  barrack  I  could 
just  discern  far  beyond  the  river,  I  had  that  very 
summer  sutfered  from  a  villain  malady,  the  small- 
pox. And  now,  as  then,  Nature  harmonized  dis- 
cordantly with  my  feelings,  and  even  forced  her 
nobler  aspects  to  grow  sternly  ominous.  Mount 
Hood,  full  before  me  across  the  valley,  became  a 
cruel  reminder  of  the  unattainable.  It  was  bril- 
liantly near,  and  yet  coldly  far  away,  like  some 
mocking  bliss  never  to  be  mine,  though  it  might 
insult  me  forever  by  its  scornful  presence. 


284 


THE  CANOE  AND  THE  SADDLE. 


» 


*4  mt 


f 
i 
I 

I 


-I 


The  Dalles  of  the  Columbia,  upon  which  I  was 
now  looking,  must  be  studied  by  the  Yankee 
Dante,  whenever  he  comes,  for  imagery  to  con- 
struct his  Purgatory,  if  not  his  Inferno.  At 
Walla  Walah  two  great  rivers,  Clark's  Fork  and 
the  Snake,  drainers  of  the  continent  north  and 
south,  unite  to  form  the  Columbia.  It  flows 
furiously  for  a  hundred  and  twenty  miles  west- 
ward. When  it  reaches  the  dreary  region  I  was 
now  studying,  where  the  outlying  ridges  of  the 
Cascade  chain  commence,  it  finds  a  great,  low 
surface  paved  with  enormous  polished  sheets 
of  basaltic  rock.  These  plates,  Gallice  dalles^ 
give  the  spot  its  name.  Canadian  voyageurs  in 
the  Hudson's  Bay  service  had  a  share  in  the 
nomenclature  of  Oregon.  The  great  river,  a 
mile  wide  not  far  above,  finds  but  a  narrow  rift 
in  this  pavement  for  its  passage.  The  rift  gradu- 
ally draws  its  sides  closer,  and  at  the  spot  now 
called  the  Dalles,  subdivides  into  three  mere  slits 
in  the  sharp-edged  rock.  At  the  highest  water 
there  are  other  minor  channels,  but  generally 
this  continental  flood  is  cribbed  and  compressed 
within  its  three  chasms  suddenly  opening  in  the 
level  floor,  each  chasm  hardly  wider  than  a  leap 
a  hunted  fiend  might  take. 

In  fact,  the  legend  of  this  infernal  spot  asserts 
a  diabohcal  origin  for  these  channels  in  the  Dalles. 
I  give  this  weird  and  grotesque  attempt  at  ex- 


THE  DAILES.  —  THEIR   LEGEND. 


285 


plaining  strange  facts  in  Nature,  translating  it 
into  more  modern  form. 


THE  LEGEND  OF  THE  DALLES. 

The  world  has  been  long  cycles  in  educating 
itself  to  be  a  fit  abode  for  men.  Man,  for  his 
part,  has  been  long  ages  in  growing  upward 
through  lower  grades  of  being,  to  become  what- 
ever he  now  may  be.  The  globe  was  once  nebu- 
lous, was  chaotic,  was  anarchic,  and  is  at  last 
become  somewhat  cosmical.  Formerly  rude  and 
convulsionary  forces  were  actively  at  work,  to 
compel  chaos  into  anarchy  and  anarchy  into 
order.  The  mighty  ministries  of  the  elements 
warred  with  each  other,  each  subduing  and  each 
subdued.  There  were  earthquakes,  deluges,  pri- 
meval storms,  and  furious  volcanic  outbursts. 
In  this  passionate,  uncontrolled  period  of  the 
world's  history,  man  was  a  fiend,  a  highly  un- 
civilized, cruel,  passionate  fiend. 

The  Northwest  was  then  one  of  the  centres  of 
volcanic  action.  The  craters  of  the  Cascades 
were  fire-breathers,  fountains  of  liquid  flame, 
catapults  of  red-hot  stones.  Day  was  lurid, 
night  was  ghastly  with  this  terrible  light.  Men 
exposed  to  such  dread  influences  could  not  be 
other  than  fiends,  as  they  were,  and  they  warred 
together  cruelly,  as  the  elements  were  doing. 

Where  the  great  plains  of  the  Upper  Columbia 


$- 


286 


THE  CANOE  AND   TIIE  SADDLE 


w  -— 


•<»«k 


t«a 


now  spread,  along  the  Umatillah,  in  the  lovely 
valley  of  the  Grande  Ronde,  between  the  walls 
of  the  Grande  Coul(3e,  was  an  enormous  inland 
sea,  filling  the  vast  interior  of  the  continent,  and 
beating  forever  against  a  rampart  of  hills,  to  tho 
east  of  the  desolate  plain  of  the  Dalles. 

Every  winter  there  were  convulsions  along  tlio 
Cascades,  and  gushes  of  lava  came  from  each 
fiery  Tacoma,  to  spread  new  desolation  over 
desolation,  pouring  out  a  melted  surface,  which, 
as  it  cooled  in  summer,  became  a  fresh  layer  of 
tjheeny,  fire-hardened  dalles. 

Now  as  the  fiends  of  that  epoch  and  region 
had  giant  power  to  harm  each  other,  they  must 
have  of  course  giant  weapons  of  defence.  Their 
mightiest  weapon  of  offence  and  defence  was 
their  tail ;  in  this  they  resembled  the  iguanodons 
and  other  "  mud  pythons  '*  of  that  period,  but 
no  animal  ever  had  such  force  of  tail  as  these 
terrible,  monster  fiend-men  who  warred  together 
over  all  the  Northwest. 

As  ages  went  on,  and  the  fires  of  the  Cascades 
began  to  accomplish  their  duty  of  expanding  the 
world,  earthquakes  and  eruptions  diminished  in 
virulence.  A  winter  came  when  there  was  none. 
By  and  by  there  was  an  interval  of  two  years, 
then  again  of  three  years,  without  rumble  or 
shock,  without  floods  of  fire  or  showers  of  red- 
hot  stones.    Earth  seemed  to  be  subsiding  into 


THE  DALLES.  —  THEIR  LEGEND. 


287 


an  era  of  peace.  But  the  fiends  wonld  not  take 
the  hint  to  be  peaceable ;  the/  warred  as  furi- 
ously as  ever. 

Stoutest  in  heart  and  tail  of  all  the  hostile 
tribes  of  that  scathed  region  was  a  wise  fiend, 
the  Devil.  He  had  observed  the  cessation  in 
convulsions  of  Nature,  and  had  begun  to  think 
out  its  lesson.  It  was  a  custom  of  the  fiends,  so 
soon  as  the  Dalles  plain  became  agreeably  cooi 
after  an  eruption,  to  meet  there  every  summer 
and  have  a  grand  tournament  after  their  fashion. 
Then  they  feasted  riotously,  and  fought  again 
until  they  were  weary. 

Although  the  eruptions  of  the  Tacomas  had 
ceased  now  for  three  years,  as  each  summer 
came  round  this  festival  was  renewed.  The 
Devil  had  absented  himself  from  the  last  two, 
and  when,  on  the  third  summer  after  his  long 
retirement,  he  reappeared  among  his  race  on  the 
field  of  tourney,  he  became  an  object  of  respect- 
ful attention.  Every  fiend  knew  that  against  his 
strength  there  was  no  defence ;  he  could  slay  so 
long  as  the  fit  was  on.  Yet  the  idea  of  combined 
resistance  to  so  dread  a  foe  had  never  hatched 
itself  in  any  fiendish  head;  and  besides,  the 
Devil,  though  he  was  feared,  was  not  especially 
hated.  He  had  never  won  the  jealousy  of  his 
peers  by  rising  above  them  in  morality.  So 
now  as  he  approached,  with  brave  tail  vibrating 
proudly,  all  admired  and  many  feared  him. 


SI 


w. 


288 


TUE  CANOE  AND  THE  SADDLE. 


k 


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The  Devil  drew  near,  and  took  the  initiative 
in  war,  by  making  a  peace  speech. 

"  Princes,  potentates,  and  powers  of  these  in- 
fernal realms,'*  said  he,  "  the  eruptions  and 
earthquakes  are  ceasing.  The  elements  are  set- 
tling into  peacefulness.  Can  we  not  leani  of 
them  ?  Let  us  give  up  war  and  cannibalism, 
and  live  in  milder  Heudishness  and  growing 
love." 

Then  went  up  a  howl  from  deviltry.  "He 
would  lull  us  into  crafty  peace,  that  he  may  kill 
and  eat  safely.     Death !  death  to  the  traitor  !  " 

And  all  the  legions  of  fiends,  acting  with  a 
rare  unanimity,  made  straight  at  their  intended 
Reformer. 

The  Devil  pursued  a  Fabian  policy,  and  took 
to  his  heels.  If  he  could  divide  their  forces,  he 
could  conquer  in  detail.  Yet  as  he  ran  his 
heart  was  heavy.  He  was  bitterly  grieved  at 
this  great  failure,  his  first  experience  in  the 
difficulties  of  Reform.  He  flagged  sadly  as  he 
sped  over  the  Dalles,  toward  the  defiles  near  the 
great  inland  sea,  whose  roaring  waves  he  could 
hear  beating  against  their  bulwark.  Could  he 
but  reach  some  craggy  strait  among  the  passes, 
he  could  take  position  and  defy  attack. 

But  the  foremost  fiends  were  close  upon  him. 
Without  stopping,  he  smote  powerfully  upon  the 
rock  with  his   tail.    The  pavement  yielded  to 


THE   DALLES.  —  THEIR    LEGEND. 


289 


that  Titanic  bloT.  A  chasm  opened  and  went 
riving  up  the  valley,  piercing  through  the  bul- 
wark hills.  Down  ruslied  tlio  waters  of  the 
inland  sea,  churning  boulders  to  dust  along 
the  narrow  trough. 

The  main  body  of  the  fiends  shrunk  back 
terror-stricken  ;  but  a  battalion  of  the  van  sprang 
across  and  made  one  bound  toward  the  heart- 
sick and  fainting  Devil.  He  smote  again  with 
his  tail,  and  more  strongly.  Another  vaster  cleft 
went  up  and  down  the  valley,  with  an  earth- 
quaking roar,  and  a  vaster  torrent  swept  along. 

Still  the  leading  fiends  were  not  appalled. 
They  took  the  leap  without  craning.  Many  fell 
short,  or  were  crowded  into  the  roaring  gulf, 
but  enough  were  left,  and  those  of  the  chiefest 
braves,  to  martyr  their  chase  in  one  instant,  if 
they  overtook  him.  The  Devil  had  just  time 
enough  to  tap  once  more,  and  with  all  the  vigor 
of  a  despairing  tail. 

He  was  safe.  A  third  crevice,  twice  the 
width  of  the  second,  split  the  rocks.  This  way 
and  that  it  went,  wavering  like  lightning  east- 
ward and  westward,  riving  a  deeper  cleft  in  the 
mountains  that  held  back  the  inland  sea,  riving 
a  vf  ^ter  gorge  through  the  majestic  chain  of  the 
Cascades,  and  opening  a  way  for  the  torrent  to 
gusli  ocean  ward.  It  was  the  crack  of  doom  for 
tlio  fiends.    A  few  essayed  the  leap.    They  fell 

13  ■ 


290 


THE  CANOE  AND  THE  SADDLE. 


II 


it 


a  Wit 
»r  iiwit 


i: 


•ft,    WcHK- 


f 
I 

t 


tan 


1 

«• 

m 

5 

11 

^ 

e 

v 

: 

•> 

' 

w 

1 

^^ 

<• 

far  short  of  the  stern  edge,  where  the  Devil  lad 
sunk  panting.  They  alighted  on  the  water,  but 
whirlpools  tripped  them  up,  tossed  them,  bowled 
them  along  among  floating  boulders,  until  the 
buffeted  wretches  were  borne  to  the  broader 
calms  below,  wiiere  they  sunk.  Meanwhile,  those 
who  had  not  dared  the  fnial  leap  attempted  a 
backward  one,  but  wanting  the  impetus  of  pur- 
suit, and  shuddering  at  the  fate  of  their  com- 
rades, every  one  of  them  failed  and  fell  short; 
and  they  too  were  swept  away,  liorribly  sprawling 
in  the  flood. 

As  to  the  fiends  who  had  stopped  at  the  first 
crevice,  they  ran  in  a  body  down  the  river  to 
look  for  the  mangled  remains  of  their  brethren, 
and,  the  undermined  bank  giving  way  under  their 
weight,  every  fiend  of  them  was  carried  away 
and  drowned. 

So  perished  the  whole  race  of  fiends. 

As  to  the  Devil,  he  had  learnt  a  still  deeper 
lesson.  His  tail  also,  the  ensign  of  deviltry,  was 
irremediably  dislocated  by  his  last  life-saving 
blow.  In  fact,  it  had  ceased  to  be  any  longer  a 
needful  weapon!  its  antagonists  were  all  gone; 
never  a  tail  remained  to  be  brandished  at  it,  iii 
deadly  encounter. 

So,  after  due  repose,  the  Devil  sprang  lightly 
across  the  chasms  he  had  so  successfully  engi- 
neered, and  went  home  to  rear  his  family  thought- 


THE  DALLES.  —  TIIETR  LEGEND. 


201 


fullj.  Every  year  ho  brought  his  children  down 
to  tlio  Dalles,  and  told  them  tlio  terrible  history 
of  his  escape.  The  fires  of  the  Cascades  burned 
away ;  the  inland  sea  was  drained,  and  its  bed 
became  fair  prairie,  and  still  the  waters  gushed 
along  the  narrow  crevices  he  had  opened.  Ho 
had,  in  fact,  been  the  instrument  in  changing  a 
vast  region  from  a  barren  sea  into  habitable 
land. 

One  great  trial,  however,  remained  with  him, 
and  made  his  life  one  of  grave  responsibility. 
All  his  children  born  before  the  catastrophe  were 
cannibal,  stiff-tailed  fiends.  After  that  great 
event,  every  new-born  imp  of  his  was  like  him- 
self in  character  and  person,  and  wore  but  a 
flaccid  tail,  the  last  insignium  of  ignobility. 
Quarrels  between  these  two  factions  imbittered 
his  days  and  impeded  civilization.  Still  it  did 
advance,  and  long  before  his  death  he  saw  the 
tails  disappear  forever. 

Such  is  the  Legend  of  the  Dalles,  —  a  legend 
not  without  a  moral. 


So  in  this  summer  afternoon  I  rested  awhile  ; 
looking  over  the  brown  desolateness  of  the  valley 
where  the  Devil  baffled  the  fiends,  and  then 
slowly  and  wearily  I  wound  along  down  the 
enormous  hill-side  by  crumbling  paths,  and  then 


292 


THE  CANOE  AND  THE  SADDLE 


I'  i 


s 


"'^Si 


f 

t 
t 

r 


li 

Ji 

e 

y 

m 

« 

» 

f 

**^- 

•• 

jnn 

1 JIH: 

il? 

|i 

laBJ 

5f" 

/li^H^I^B 

^hV! 

t  -i^OTiP 

between  scarped  cliffs  of  fired  rock  or  shattered 
conglomerate  down  to  the  desert  below.  The 
Columbia  was  still  two  or  three  cruel  miles 
away,  but  at  last,  turning  to  the  right,  away 
from  the  pavement  and  channels  of  the  Dalles,  I 
came  to  the  cliffs  over  the  river. 

Over  against  me,  across  the  unfordable  whirls 
of  gray  water,  still  furious  after  its  compression 
in  the  rifts  above,  was  the  outermost  post  of 
Occidental  cwilization.  My  countrymen  were 
backing  from  the  Pacific  across  the  continent, 
and  to  protect  their  advancing  rear  had  estab- 
lislied  a  small  garrison  here  at  the  Dalles.  There 
were  the  old  log  barracks  on  the  terrace  a  mile 
from  the  river.  My  very  hospital,  where  I  had 
Buffered,  and  received  the  kindliest  care,  and 
where  to  my  fevered  dreams  had  come  visior^ 
of  Indians,  antic,  frantic,  corybantic,  circling 
about  me  with  hatchets  because  I  had  brought 
the  deadly  pest  into  their  tribe,  —  that  log  cabin, 
vacated  by  its  occupant,  the  officer  in  command, 
that  I  might  be  well  lodged  through  my  illness, 
was  still  there  among  the  rough,  yellow  pines, 
unaltered  by  one  embrowning  summer.  There 
was  the  sutler's  shop  near  the  shore,  and, 
grouped  about  it,  tents  of  the  first-comers  of  the 
overland  emigration,  each  with  its  gypsy  supper- 
fire.  Truly  an  elysium  of  civilization  as  elysian 
as  one  could  desire,  and  Mount  Hood  standing 


■»■*■■ 


THE  DALLES.  —  THEIR  LEGEND. 


293 


nobly  in  the  background,  no  longer  chill  and 
unsympathizing.  But  between  me  and  elysium 
flows  the  Styx,  gray  and  turbulent,  and  Charon, 
where  is  he  ?  There  are  no  canoes  on  this  side. 
How  shall  we  cross,  Fudnun,  the  Blanketeer  ? 

''  Kloneas ;  dunno.  Pose  mika  mamook  po ; 
suppose  you  fire  a  shot,"  said  Fudnun,  "pesi- 
wash  chaco  copa  canim ;  and  Indian  come  with 
canoe." 

I  fired  shots,  nay,  impatient  volleys,  and  very 
petty  popgun  noise  it  seemed  by  the  loud  river 
in  this  broad,  rough  bit  of  earth.  No  one  ap- 
peared to  ferry  me.  I  waved  a  white  blanket. 
No  one  heeded.  I  fired  more  shots,  more  volleys. 
It  would  be  farcical,  or  worse,  should  we  be 
forced  to  stay  here  "  dum  defluat  amnis,"  to  wait 
until  this  continental  current  run  driblets.  Are 
we  to  repeat,  with  variations,  the  trials  of  Tanta- 
lus ?  No,  for  I  see  a  figure  stirring  near  a  log 
on  the  beach.  At  this  distance  I  cannot  distin- 
guish, but  I  can  fancy  the  figure  to  be  one  of  the 
Frowzy,  and  the  log  a  canoe.  It  is  so.  He 
launches,  and  comes  bravely  paddling  across  the 
stream.  We  scuffled  down  the  craggy  bank  to 
meet  him. 

"  Howdydo !  Howdydo !  "  said  Olyman  Charon, 
landing  his  canoe,  and  lounging  bow-leggedly  up 
to  shake  hands.  A  welcoming  howdydo,  said  I 
in  return,  and  for  a  fitting  number  of  oboli  ho 


•Is: 


m. 


[•'I 


294 


THE  CANOE  AND  THE  SADDLE. 


IT  I 


« 


r- 
F 

1- 

i 


J 

It 


e    I 


m 


I 


.%• 


agreed  to  ferry  me  and  mine  in  two  detachments. 
I  would  cross  first  with  the  traps,  swimming 
Klale  ;  Fudnun  would  come  afterward  with 
k'Gubns  and  Antipodes.  I  upheld  Klale's  head 
in  the  bow  while  Charon  paddled  and  steered 
aft.  The  river  proved  indeed  almost  a  Styx  to 
poor  Klale.  It  was  a  long  half-mile  of  stem- 
ming a  furious  current,  and  once  or  twice  the 
stout-hearted  little  nag  struggled  as  if  his  death- 
moment  had  come.  But  Charon  paddled  lustily, 
and  we  safely  touched  the  farther  shore. 

It  was  sunset  of  the  last  of  August.  I  had 
won  the  day,  and  not  merely  the  day.  Across 
the  tide-ways  of  Whulge,  the  Squally  prairies,  the 
wooded  flanks  and  buttresses  of  Tacoma,  by  the 
Nachchese  canon  and  valley,  from  traitors  on 
Weenas,  from  the  Atinam  mission,  from  the 
camp  of  the  flaring  torch,  across  Skloo's  do- 
mains, and  at  last  over  the  region  of  the  DeviPs 
race-course  here  at  the  Dalles ;  —  over  all  these 
stages  of  my  route  I  had  hastened,  and  my  speed 
was  not  in  vain.  I  had  seen  new  modes  of  sav- 
age life.  I  had  proved  Indian  treachery  and 
Indian  friendship.  I  knew  the  glory  and  the 
shame  of  Klalam  and  Klickatat.  Among  many 
types  of  character  were  some  positively  distinct 
and  new  ones ;  Dooker  Yawk,  the  drunk- 
en ;  Owhhigh,  the  magisterial ;  Loolowcan,  the 
frowzy;   Shabbiest,  the  not  ungrateful;   merry 


THE  DALLES.  —  THEIR  LEGIND. 


295 


Uplintz,  and  hero-worshipping  Kpawintz ;  Ka- 
maiakan,  the  regal  and  courteous ;  Fudnun,  the 
jocund  ;  —  all  these  had  been  in  some  way  inti- 
mately associated  with  my  destiny.  I  had  con- 
quered time  and  space  by  just  so  little  as  to 
feel  a  respect  for  my  antagonists,  and  some  sat- 
isfaction in  myself  as  victor.  My  allies  in  the 
contest,  my  three  quadrupeds,  had  borne  them 
nobly.  I  had  a  serene  sense  of  new  and  large 
experience,  and  of  some  qualities  in  myself 
newly  tested.  Of  all  my  passages  of  wild  life, 
this  was  the  most  varied  and  concentrated. 
There  had  been  much  grandeur  of  nature,  and 
vigorous  dramatic  scenes,  crowded  into  this  brief 
journey.  As  a  journey,  it  was  complete  with  a 
fortunate  catastrophe  after  the  rapidity  of  its 
acts,  to  prove  the  plot  well  conceived.  I  had 
rehearsed  my  longer  march,  and  was  ready  to 
begin  to  enact  it. 

I  left  Klale  to  shake  himself  free  of  the  waters 
of  his  Lethe,  and  nibble  at  what  he  could  find  of 
the  promised  asphodel,  until  his  comrades  came 
over,  and  myself  moved  about  to  greet  old 
frioi  is.  My  two  comrades  of  the  morrow  were 
ill  a  tent,  hard  by,  playing  poker  with  Pikes  of 
the  emigration,  and  losing  money  to  the  said 
cra^'ty  Pikes.  ,  ,   . 

So,  when  the  morrow  came,  I  mounted  a 
fresh   horse,  and  went  galloping  along  on  my 


296 


THE  CANOE  AND  THE  SADDLE. 


^^  *  «wca 


IP'     'T* 

r    * 


F 


1 

1 

t 

J 

1 

m 

•* 

i  i 

l     B 

1 

I 

« 

A  * 


way  across  the  continent.  With  my  comrades, 
a  parr  of  frank,  hearty,  kindly  roughs,  I  rode 
over  the  dry  plains  of  the  Upper  Columhia,  be- 
yond the  sight  of  Mount  Hood  and  Tacoma  the 
less,  across  John  Day's  river  and  the  Umatillah, 
day  after  day,  through  throngs  of  emigrants  with 
their  flocks  and  their  herds  and  their  little  ones, 
in  great  patriarchal  caravans,  with  their  white 
roofed  wagons  strewed  over  the  surging  prairie, 
like  sails  on  a  populous  sea,  moving  away  from 
the  tame  levels  of  Mid-America  to  regions  of 
fresher  and  more  dramatic  life  on  the  slopes 
toward  the  Western  Sea.  I  climbed  the  Blue 
Mountains,  looked  over  the  lovely  valley  of  the 
Grande  Ronde,  wound  through  the  stern  defiles 
of  the  Burnt  River  Mountains,  talked  with  the 
great  chiefs  of  the  Nez  Percys  at  Fort  Bois^e, 
dodged  treacherous  Bannacks  along  the  Snake, 
bought  salmon,  and  otter-skins  for  finery,  of  the 
Shoshonees  at  the  Salmon  Falls,  shot  antelope, 
found  many  oases  of  refreshmg  beauty  along  the 
breadth  of  that  desolate  region,  and  so,  after 
much  adventure,  and  at  last  deadly  sickness,  I 
came  to  the  watermelon  patches  of  the  Great 
Salt  Lake  Valley,  and  drew  recovery  thence.  I 
studied  the  Utah  landscape.  Oriental,  simple,  and 
severe.  I  talked  with  Brother  Brigham,  a  man 
of  very  considerable  power,  practical  sense,  and 
administrative  ability.   I  chatted  with  the  buxom 


\ 


THE  DALLES.  —  THEIR  LEGEND. 


207 


thirteenth  of  a  hoss  Mormon,  and  was  not  pros- 
elyted. And  then,  in  delicious  October,  I  has- 
tened on  over  the  South  Pass,  through  the  buffalo, 
over  prairies  on  fire,  quenched  at  night  bj  the 
first  snows  of  autumn.  For  two  months  I  rode 
with  days  sweet  and  cloudless,  and  every  night  I 
bivouacked  beneath  the  splendors  of  unclouded 
stars. 

And  in  all  that  period  while  I  was  so  near  to 
Nature,  the  great  lessons  of  the  wilderness 
deepened  into  my  heart  day  by  day,  the  hedges 
of  conventionalism  withered  away  from  my  hori- 
zon, and  all  the  pedantries  of  scholastic  thought 
perished  out  of  my  mind  forever. 


■m 


u^ 


'  I 


!l 


hi 


IB* 


I 


gr'Js 


ta«i 


I 


'^t  -ntm 


A   PARTIAL   VOCABULARY 


OF  TDK 


CHINOOK   JARGON. 


All  worilfl  In  Chinook  ars  rery  much  wpirated,  gutturalized,  ipntiered, 
and  swallowed. 


Aha.  yeg. 

Aliti  or  achti.  Bister. 

Ala,  /  wonder;  turjvriae, 

Alki,  fnture,  hy  and  by. 

Alt.i,  fiort',  prpttent. 

Attle,  to  /w  pfettsed. 

Ankuti.  fte/ore :  time  past,    . 

Aquine  or  a(|utitinc,  bfffy. 

Ronton  tilic'uin,  Ainerican, 

Bote,  l)oat 

Callnpoova,  mean  Indian, 

Caiiiiii,  canoe.    • 

Caiisii.  /<««»  numy. 

Chi»c<»,  foine. 

Clii('k-<'hifk,  tratjon^  etc. 

Cliicii  or  clie-oliu,  new,  clean. 

riiirkamin,  iron,  etc, 

Cliil  rliil.  button. 

rinick,  ivttfT,  river, 

Cli,  tu  fry. 

rioochiniiin.  Mvmnn. 

Cl(K(he  iianiti'li,  htok  sharp. 

ClUfkHiiion,  nioiify. 

Coclion,  piif,  i>itrk. 

Copa  mitlite  pire,  to  hum* 


Copa  nika  mitlite,  //  belongs  to  mt, 

Cop-Ru-wallah,  st*^d. 

(^ouway  (courcz)  oooly,  run, 

Culrus,  common,  in/erior, 

Cultus  hechee,  dance, 

Culrus  tee-lice,  pbty.  . 

Cum  tux  understand,  hear, 

Dali-Mo  or  derb,  deed. 

I)in}r-<lin»;,  hour. 

Dlic,  dry. 

Drait,  atraiifht, 

Kh-ee,  unrle, 

Klira,  lihtre.. 

Knett'C.  across. 

K<ik,  fHuldle. 

K.->sil,  t-ont. 

( i  lei'se,  irii'aoh ,  (jr^nse,  oil,  tar^  etc 

(ilrt,'?«e-stirk.  runil/e. 

Halo,  none,  not  hi  m/. 

Haloa  iii'ili,  »i»»»vW  AvW. 

1 1  u  1 1  k  a( '  h  I  111 ,  handkerch  lef. 

Maul,  />»///. 

Ilaus.  Slid,  tent. 

Ilo,  let;  an  interjection, 

lluul,  mouse. 


{'■' 


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300 


VOCABULARY. 


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Hooe-hoo,  «t0op,  m27. 

Ilooihut,  road. 

Hui,  7nucA,  many. 

Hui-haus,  toivn. 

Hyack,  quick,  make  haste. 

II yas,  very,  greatly.  ~ 

Ichfat,  bear,  animal. 

Ikta,  what  things. 

Illahce,  earth,  dxtst,  floor,  etc. 

liip  m-  eelip,  the  first. 

Inati,  over,  across,  outside. 

Ipsuit,  find. 

Iscnm,  take^  bring. 

Ittle-whilly,  flesh. 

Itucl,  victuals. 

Kah,  where. 

Kah  mika  chaco,  where  do  you 

come  firomf 
Kah  mika  klatawah,  where  are 

you  going  f 
Kahquah  or  kapwah,  alike,  like. 
Kah  ta  mika  wah-wah,  what  did 

you  say  f 
Kaloock,  suxrn. 
Kaliaton,  lead;  k.  hjas,  halls; 

k.  tcnas,  shot. 
Kamooks,  dog;  mean  ^  poor  fellow. 
Kanoway,  all. 
Ka-paet,  needle. 
Kappo,  coa/. 
Ka])-8ualla,  steal. 
Karabine,  riflie. 
Kata,  why. 
Kutock,  yean 
Kaw-kaw,  crow,  raven. 
Kaw-heloo,  goose, 
Kaw-wasli,  afraid. 
Kce-a-wali,  love, 
Kee-la-pi,  tiun  over. 


Keolapy,  come  back,  return. 
Kiasee  or  "sie,  how  many,  much, 
Kicemali,  down  below, 
Kicuali  tyee,  devil. 
Kiiiitah,  Ixidc. 

Kinny-ki-nick,  smoking-weed, 
Kinoose,  tobacco. 
Kitlo,  kcttling,  kettle. 
Klatawah,  go,  walk. 
Klalo,  black. 

Klahyam,  klah-hyc-am,  good  by. 
Klahya,  klah-hyg-gah,  how  d'ye 

do. 
Klahana,  out. 
Klaska,  them,  those. 
Klaxta,  who. 
Klimmin,  little,  soft, 
Klipsc,  upsd, 

Kliminwhit,  klimink-whit,  lie, 
Kloneas,  don't  know;  may  be. 
Klosche,  good. 
Klowawah,  slow, 
Knitan,  house. 
Knitan-house,  stable, 
Ko,  stop ;  arrived.  '   ""' 
Kock-sheet,  break,  strike,  kill,ete, 
Kock-shcet-stick,  war-dub, 
Koll,  cold. 
KoWo,  fence. 
KoUaps  or  k'laps,  find, 
Komsock,  beads. 
Konamoxt,  both. 
Kopa,  with,  by. 
Kopet,  enough,  done ;  stop,  Ut  M 

alone. 
Kotsuck,  middle. 
Kowee,  tie  in,  tie  up.    ' 
KuUa  or  kalla,  kallie,  bird  of  ai^ 

kind. 


\ 


VOCABULARY. 


801 


Eum-tnx,  know,  understand. 

Kutl  or  kalkttl,  hard, 

Kwanasim,  cUioaj/a, 

La  boache,  mouth. 

La  coope,  tO'Cope,  white* 

La  crame,  yellow. 

La  h&che,  axe. 

La  Iftme,  oar. 

La  vest,  jacket, 

Lo  bya  (la  vielle?),  eld  woman. 

Le  cassette,  trunk. 

Le  coa,  necib. 

Lo  dents,  teeth. 

Le  langue,  tongue, 

Le  loim,  sharp, 

Le  molass,  molassee, 

Le  mottton,  sA«p. 

Le  main,  hand, 

Le  pied,  ,/^. 

Le  pipe,  pipe, 

Le  plash,  boards, 

Lq  polo,  pan, 

Le  pomme,  a/)pj(8i. 

Le  pois,  peas. 

Le  poshat,  ybr£; 

Le  porte,  door, 

Le  fonXe,  Jowl. 

Le  nez,  nose. 

Jjd  selle,  saddle. 

Lc  shabree,  plough, 

Le  tete,  Aecui. 

Lip-lip,  6o»l. 

Lolo,  carry. 

Lope,  repe. 

Lum,  spirit  ofamg  wort, 

Mahcook,  hug, 

Mamook,  toor^,  dn, 

Man,  VMM, 

Masatche,  6aJ. 


Masatche  man,  enemy, 

Memloose,  die,  dead,  dtdreg, 

Mesika,  ye  or  you, 

Mika,  you. 

Mitlite,^t>e,<fop;  plaee^setdown, 

Mit-mit-stick,  mast  or  tree. 

Moon,  month. 

Moo8>moo8,  beef,  cattle* 

Moosum,  sleep. 

Mowitch,  deer, 

Muck-a-mack,  eat,  drink,  Jbod, 

Musket,  gun. 

Musket-stone,  Jlint, 

Musket  tenas,  pietoL 

Na-wit-kab,  yesj  indeed, 

NaUitch,  see, 

Neim,  name. 

Nesika,  toe,  u*. 

Nika,/.  ' 

Nika  attle  copa  mika,  /  cni 

pleased  with  you, 
Nika  flia,  my  love, 
Nik-wah,  here  to  me, 
Oapcan,  baskeL 
Ocook,  thiSf  that, 
Oelk,  snake, 
Oelhin,  seal, 
Olilly  or  olalely,  herrg, 
Olo,  hungry, 
Olyman  saolrocks,  eeoond-Acuid, 

old  clothes. 
Opitchure,  knijci    • 
Opotche,  back  (vulgar). 
Oree,  brother, 

Pasaiooks,  French,  Joreignen, 
Pat-le,  full. 
Pe,  and,  but. 
Pechi,  green, 
Pel«  red. 


»   ! 


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f 


802 


VOCABULARY. 


Pesispy,  blanket. 
Pcsispy  Hail,  uvo/len  doth, 
Peshooks,  thirketa. 
Peiick  (?).  ttwW. 
Pil  pil,  blood.  , 

T'\\i\n,  fool,  footiJi,      .  ;,. 
Pire,  fre. 
Pire-Klecse,  tatfow, 
Pire-hllip,  steamer. 
"Plre-sutne,  Jlint.  , 

Poo,  plook,  shooL  .  . 

Polikely,  night. 
Pose,  //*,  suppose,       ;,  ., 
Pusse,  caf. 
Qimk-quak,  c/ucik. 
Quallon,  ear. 
QuxtiisHm,  afwatfs, 
Sah-hah-lce,  high  up,  heaven, 
Sah-hah-lee-tyee,  God, 
Sail,  rotton  doth,  etc        .\     , 
Sainon,  Jush. 
Sapolel,  wheat. 
See-ah-hoos,  fare  or  eyes, 
Sec-ah-pal.  hat,  cup. 
Shocollon,  /HtntalooHS, 
Shixe,  friend. 
Sitriim,  half.  »^,    J, 

Si  wash,  Indian, 


:i.j    t^\   ti 


Sivali,  fHtif  off. 

Skookum.  strong,  utotit:  ghost. 

8kookum  man,  icu/nor. 

Stiax,  rain 

Sontiire  (ocinmre),  sash. 

Stoc»'<)n.  ittutiffxm. 

Talipus,  wol/. 


A- 


Tamala,  to-tnorrow. 
'ratiiaiiuus,  yuardian  spiriL 
Tamoluck,  barrd. 
Tatoosh,  milk,  dieese^  huUer, 
Tee-ah-nute,  leg. 
Tec-coop  or  t'kope  (cope),  whits. 
Tee-hce  or  hee-hee,  laugh. 
'I'cnas,   infant ;   t.   cloocheman, 

yirl;  t.  man,  boy ;  t.  le  porte, 

window. 
Tikky,  want,  wish, 
Tilicum,  peoftle. 
Till-till,  tired,  heavy,         . 
Tin-tin,  bdl,  watch. 
Tipsoo,    grass,   feathers,    j&our, 

beard,  wod,  etc, 
Tipu,  ornament, 
'V'\>At>xxm,  itretty.  ^    . 

Tit-the-co-ep,  cut, 
T'kope  (cope)  tilicam,  whUex 
Tocta,  doctor, 
Tolo,  win. 

Tumpelo,  back.      ,  ^    . 
Tum-tum,  heart. 
Tyee,  chief  mcuOer,  tte, 
Utescut,  short.         ^  ,  . 
Uttccut, /owigr. 
Wuh-wah,  ^i/fe. 
Wake,  wo,  not. 
Wapnfo,  ftotato, 
WolK'h.  more, 
Yack-wah,  this  way» 
Yah-hal,  name, 
Yah-wah,  yonder. 
Yaka,  him,  she,  it. 


.K?!',-*-^ 


.W?  ijy'i  1 


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in  ^iriL 

»e,  butter, 

(cdpe),  white. 
,  tauyh. 
cloooheman, 
^;  t.  le  purte, 


feathen,    bairt 


am,  irAAe 


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r,de* 


ag. 


Si.:;    "iii  t   riif. 


ISTHMIANA 


*■'-■  .-■•(-.  .f  ;  i.:-,. 


^I^UX 


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[The  following  sketch,  found  among  the  author's  papers 
after  his  death,  had  not  received  his  revision  for  the  press. 
It  was  not  intended  for  publication  in  its  present  form,  and 
is  merely  a  rapidly-written  journal  of  youthful  adventure, 
in  a  part  of  our  country  then  less  explored  than  at  present] 


ISTllMIANA 


hot's  papers 
for  the  press. 
iut  form,  and 
il  adventurCt 
at  present] 


THE   CRUCES  ROAD. 

Ardent  Galifornians,  after  a  day  of  dragging 
in  the  mud  and  squeezing  in  the  alleys  of  the 
Gruces  Road,  remember  the  Isthmus  of  Panama 
only  as  a  geometrical  line;  a  narrow,  difficult, 
slippery,  dirty  path,  paved  like  the  bed  of  an 
Alpine  torrent,  beset  with  sloughs  of  despond 
and  despair,  with  mosquitoes,  tired  mules,  plun- 
dering natives,  and  bad  provender.  They  follow 
this  geometrical  line  on  their  way  to  California, 
as  a  pious  Mohammedan  treads  tremblingly  the 
slender  bridge  that  conducts  him  to  the  seventh 
heaven,  —  looking  forward,  but  very  little  around 
him,  feeling  painfully  that  the  wire  is  cutting 
his  feet,  and  regretting  that  the  grave  laws  of 
his  religion  have  not  allowed  amateur  funambu- 
listic  practice.  To  American  adventurers,  strug- 
gling towards  their  seventh  heaven,  the  Isthmus 
seems  to  concentrate  the  obstacles  of  a  conti- 
nent.   In  dread  of  the  thousand  nameless  ter- 


806 


ISTHMIANA. 


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rors  of  the  tropics,  they  hasten  to  Panama, 
eat  one  breakfast  of  eggs  in  their  omelet  stage 
of  existence,  and  are  off  up  the  coast  in  the 
steamer. 

From  the  moment  of  their  arrival  at  Aspin- 
wall  an  Isthmus  fever  floats  before  them  tangi- 
bly in  the  air.  It  hangs  a  yellow  veil  before 
every  object.  Their  sight  is  jaundiced.  Tliey 
hurry  over  a  railroad,  laid,  as  they  have  been 
told,  on  human  sleepers.  The  rich  luxuriance 
of  the  forest  along  its  course,  now  first  opened 
to  the  eye  of  man,  seems  only  rank,  unwhole- 
some vegetation.  Instead  of  appreciating  the 
almost  superhuman  enterprise  that  has  placed 
such  a  trophy  of  civilization  in  the  very  home 
of  unchanging  repose,  they  growl  because  the 
prudent  trains  do  not  despatch  them  speedily 
enough  to  the  discomforts  of  the  next  stage  of 
their  journey.  It  is  nothing  strange  to  them 
to  be  greeted  by  the  whistle  of  a  locomotive 
issuing  from  the  depths  of  a  tropical  swamp. 
Nor  strange  to  pass  through  an  untouched  garden 
of  such  magnificent,  broad-leaved  plants,  and  such 
feathery  palms,  as  they  Iiad  only  seen  before, 
dwarfed  exotics,  cherished  in  warm  recesses  of 
a  conservatory.  The  twisted  vines  that  drape 
the  stems  and  swing  from  the  branches  of  tlie 
massively  buttressed  trees,  are  mistaken  by  their 
averted  glance  for  the  terrible  convolutions  of 
gigantic  serpents. 


THE  CRUCES  ROAD. 


307 


They  embark  on  the  river,  are  perplexed  by 
the  jabbering  confusion  of  the  boatmen,  and 
again  hardly  observe  the  beauty  that  surrounds 
them.  The  Chagres  is  a  pure  type  of  the  trop- 
ical stream.  Forests,  whose  dense  luxuriance  is 
only  known  when  you  attempt  to  cut  your  way 
wearily  through  their  mazes,  overhang  its  course. 
High  hills  rise,  covered  to  the  summit  with  enor- 
nJOus  trees,  disposed  in  tiers  to  display  the  full 
effect  of  their  great  trunks  and  spreading  foli- 
age. Sometimes  a  grove  of  crested  palms  and 
cocoanut-trees  marks  the  site  of  a  native  vil- 
lage. Its  thatched  bamboo  huts  have  a  shabby 
picturesqueness  among  the  patches  of  plantains 
and  sugar-cane.  Near,  laughing  women  are 
grouped  in  the  water,  washing  clothes  and  them- 
selves. Soft  green  savannas  open,  sprinkled,  like 
a  park,  with  groves  and  monarch  trees ;  under 
their  shade  cattle  have  taken  shelter  from  the 
ardent  sun.  With  constant  change  of  scenes 
like  these,  the  river  winds  along,  but  our  party 
arc  too  much  preoccupied,  too  much  distracted, 
for  calm  enjoyment. 

The  naked  "  bogas "  with  wild  shouts  thrust 
their  canoe  powerfully  along  against  the  cur- 
rent. They  stop  a  moment  at  shabby  Gorgona, 
to  exchange  emptied  bottles  for  full  ones.  They 
pass  the  perilous  whirlpool  of  La  Gallina.  Just 
at  evening  they  reach  the  straggling  village  of 


808 


ISTHAHANA. 


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Cruces.  Their  luggage  falls  into  the  hands  of 
Philistine  porters,  whom  they  chase  dispersedly. 
Arrived  at  their  flimsy  hotel,  a  hasty  structure 
of  whitewashed  boards,  the  ladies  are  inducted 
into  a  chamber  whose  walls  are  paper,  perfo- 
rated with  peep-holes.  The  gentlemen  have 
"  steerage  accommodations "  of  board  bunks  in 
a  public  room.  They  pass  a  villanous  night, 
to  dream  with  dread  of  the  morrow. 

The  morrow  comes  with  row  of  mules  and 
row  of  muleteers.  The  ladies  of  the  party,  with 
regretful  remembrances  of  their  last  dress-prom- 
enade on  horseback,  are  hoisted,  califourchon^ 
upon  a  pack-saddled  mule,  who,  becoming  con- 
scious of  his  fair  burden,  hurries  off  down  the 
street,  with  an  inflexible  determination  to  ex- 
hibit her  at  his  stable,  where  his  fellows,  ex- 
pecting a  sensation,  are  already  braying  their 
compliments.  At  last  the  stragglers  are  col- 
lected, and,  leaving  Cruces  to  its  curs,  through 
a  sunlit  glade  of  the  tropical  forest  they  enter 
upon  the  unknown  perils  of  the  road. 

Shall  we  here  draw  a  veil  over  their  pro- 
gress, and  exhibit  the  party  only  on  the  next 
evening,  lounging,  in  fresh  attire,  upon  Las 
Boredas,  the  Battery  of  Panama,  looking  out 
upon  the  beauty  of  the  bay  and  inspecting  tlie 
steamer  which  awaits  them  ?  Or  shall  we  follow 
them  through  mud-hole  and  swamp-hole,  through 
gulley  and  alley? 


THE  CRUCES  ROAD. 


809 


The  two  marked  features  of  the  Cruces  Road 
are  its  mud-holes  and  its  callejons,  or  alleys. 
Mud-holes  need  no  description  here.  The  two 
most  profoiuid  are  ^*  La  Saubujedora  "  and  "  La 
Ramona."  In  these  I  have  frequently  seen 
mules  sunk  to  the  neck,  while  their  riders 
vainly  endeavored  to  put  a  "  soul  under  their 
ribs  of  death"  by  the  aid  of  stout  saplings 
applied  upon  and  under.  The  callejons  are 
narrow  passages  cut  and  worn  from  ten  to 
twenty  feet  deep  in  the  soft,  friable  rock  of 
the  frequent  transverse  ridges.  They  are  wide 
enough  only  for  a  single  mule.  Long  proces- 
sions of  pack-trains  passing  in  perpetual  succes- 
sion have  marked  the  path  within  with  regular 
footsteps.  Dark  and  cool  passages  they  are,  re- 
freshing refuges  from  the  glare  of  noon,  over- 
hung by  the  thick  forest,  draped  with  delicate 
mosses  and  ferns  ;  —  convenient  channels  after 
the  heavy  showers  of  the  rainy  season,  when  the 
steps  are  concealed,  and  your  mule  flounders 
through,  crushing  your  legs;  —  nice  spots,  too, 
for  an  ambuscade.  When  our  party  entered  the 
first,  there  was  determined  cocking  of  six-shooters. 

There  are  brave  deeds  in  unwritten  history. 
We  make  a  hero  of  Putnam  cantering  down 
the  church  steps  at  Horseneck  to  escape  a  leaden 
shower;  but  till  now  no  chronicler  has  sung 
the  praises  of  our  party,  mule-galloping  down 


810 


ISTHMIANA. 


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the  dislocated  pavement  of  a  Graces  Road  hill. 
side,  vainly  seeking  shelter  from  the  peltings 
of  tropical  rain-pellets.  Down  the  hill,  and 
something  else  is  down ;  for  lady  No.  2  is  over 
head  and  ears  of  her  mule,  while  lady  No.  1, 
who  is  in  advance,  ascending,  has  preferred  to 
dismount  at  the  other  end  of  the  animal.  Mean- 
wliile  the  mule  of  gentleman  No.  2  has  put 
the  wrong  foot  foremost  in  entering  a  narrow 
callejon^  and,  trying  to  right  himself,  has  gone 
down  like  a  Polkist  on  a  parquet,  carrying  his 
partner  with  him.  Gentleman  No.  1,  who  has 
already  entered  the  callejon,  looks  back  laugli- 
mg,  but  is  recalled  to  his  own  peril  by  meeting 
a  pack-train  in  the  narrowest  spot.  The  mules, 
mischievously  twinkling  their  ears,  successively 
"  scrouge  "  him  into  the  rock ;  he  escapes  with 
the  loss  of  left  spur,  boot,  book,  bowie-knife,  half 
pantaloon,  and  portion  of  cuticle. 

Disgusted  with  falls  backward  and  falls  forward, 
with  mud,  with  rain,  with  revengeful  beating  of 
their  mules,  with  the  whole  Gruces  Road,  curl 
friends  are  indisposed  to  admire  the  luxuriance 
of  the  forest,  the  noble  trees  of  its  open  glades, 
the  gleams  of  glowing  sunlight  through  its  rain- 
spangled  vine-tracery,  the  dewy  darkness  of  its| 
moss-covered  rock  alleys,  the  glimpse  of  a  far- 
reaching  expanse  of  dark,  untrodden  woods. 

But  mule  exercise  like    this    is  appetizing;! 


THE   CRUCES  ROAD. 


811 


our  party  are  hungry.  They  stop  at  a  hut  deco- 
rated with  many  bottles,  bearing  classic  names, 
and,  not  waiting  to  cast  a  glance  of  laughing 
admiration  upon  the  plantain-fed,  cherubic  ro- 
tundity of  the  naked  urchins,  Jos^  Marco,  Josd 
Maria,  and  Jos<i  Manuel,  who  toddle  out,  they 
ask  for  something  to  eat.  All  the  oranges,  all 
the  bananas,  all  the  chickens,  all  the  eggs  of  the 
two  first  classes,  are  carried  off  by  previous 
passers.  There  are  still  a  few  third-class  eggs, 
boiling  eggs ;  but  on  being  brought,  these  are 
found  to  be  impregnated  with  a  perfume  not 
esteemed  in  Yankee  land,  except  when  public 
characters  already  in  bad  odor  are  to  be  further 
anointed.  There  is  nothing  edible  except  a  few 
rolls  of  dry-as-dust  bread,  washed  down,  perhaps, 
by  a  bottle  of  ale  or  beer,  the  nectar  of  tlie 
Isthmus,  bearing  the  unfalsified  names  of  Wortliy 
Bass,  Byass,  Muir,  Tennent,  or  Whitbread. 

With  this  momentary  refreshment  onward  goes 
our  party.  Wearily  they  plunge  through  the 
yellow  mud  of  La  Sanbujedora,  and  emerge  yel- 
low ;  wearily  through  the  blue-black  mud  of  La 
Ramona,  and  come  out  blue-black  over  yel- 
low ;  wearily  through  many-tinted  muds,  each 
of  which,  like  a  picture-restorer,  deposits  a  new 
layer  of  ugliness  upon  the  original,  until  the 
original  has  to  be  scraped  like  an  old  pic- 
ture   to   find   out    the  fond.     The    gentlemen 


k 


312 


ISTHMIANA. 


M! 


/;1 


f 


J 


I 


4f "  Ni 

e   I 


have  long  ago  thrown  away  their  india-rubber 
coats,  and  the  umbrellas  of  the  ladies  have  left 
their  last  gore  upon  the  briers.  In  general,  the 
whole  party  are  fit  subjects  for  a  chiffonnier,  if  ho 
would  deign  to  insert  his  hook  into  such  a  mass 
of  mud. 

At  last  the  fresh-flowing  waters  of  the  Cardenas 
announce  their  approach  to  Panama.  They  wash 
away  their  masks  of  mud  to  perceive  the  ex- 
quisite beauty  of  the  tree-embowered  ford.  Then 
by  the  park-like  savannas,  which  they  are  too  tired 
to  see,  through  the  gayety  of  the  suburb  Caledo- 
nia, which  they  consider  very  mal-apropos,  across 
the  drawbridge  never  drawn,  under  the  rusty  gate- 
way, they  enter  and  bury  themselves  in  the  dis- 
comforts of  Panama. 

In  the  evening  perhaps  they  take  the  air  upon 
the  Battery,  are  desorientSs  by  finding  the  Pacific 
lying  eastward  instead  of  westward.  They  think 
everything  looks  very  shabby,  and  totally  unlike 
the  staring  newness  of  a  Yankee  town.  They 
sleep  in  an  Americanized  caravansary ;  are  lulled 
by  the  murmur  of  returned  Californian  curses, 
that  permeates  the  house ;  dream  of  the  alligators 
and  boa-constrictors  they  ought  to  have  seen. 
Nightmare  comes  to  them  in  the  shape  of  the 
mules  they  have  bestrode.  Next  morning,  wak- 
ened by  the  clinking  of  the  cathedral's  <».racked 
bells,  the  gentlemen  invert  tlTjir  boots  to  search 


THE    BAY. 


313 


for  scorpions,  and  the  ladies  regret  that  they  have 
anticipated  mosquitoes,  as  one  would  wish  to  do 
strawberries,  by  three  months. 

They  take  boat  for  the  steamer,  allow  them- 
selves to  be  bullied  and  cheated  by  the  boatmen 
almost  as  much  as  strangers  in  London  and 
New  York  are  by  cabmen.  Mutual  condolences 
and  mutual  congratulations  are  exchanged  with 
the  other  passengers.  Mutual  exaggerations  of 
dangers  passed  and  dangers  feared  are  held  up 
for  mutual  admiration. 

All  are  completely  unconscious  that  not  a  hun- 
dred miles  from  Panama  is  a  most  charming 
country,  a  veritable  Arcadia. 

THE    BAY. 

The  residents  of  Panama  think  no  more  of 
the  slight  fevers  of  the  country,  than  we  do 
of  a  severe  cold  or  influenza.  You  call  to  pay 
morning  compliments  to  a  lady  with  whom 
you  have  had  a  passage  of  arms  at  the  ball  of 
the  evening  before,  and  are  told  quietly  that 
she  teine  calenturas  (has  the  fever),  and  is  not 
visible.  In  a  day  or  two  she  reappears,  un- 
dimmed.  The  fevers  of  the  gentlemen  only  come 
j  on,  like  colds  at  a  college,  when  they  have  un- 
pleasant duties  to  perform. 

Northern   constitutions  are  more  impression- 

14 


314 


ISTHMIANA. 


iNI 


able.  They  melt  like  an  iceberg  under  tlio 
equator.  After  my  second  cahntura  and  t!on- 
coraitant  quinine,  my  head  felt  like  a  prize- 
fighter's which  lias  been  in  chancery.  I  de- 
termined to  recruit  in  a  furlougli  of  a  fortniglit. 
A  couple  of  friends  were  going  somewhere  up 
the  Isthmus.  I  agreed  to  join  them.  Wo  were 
to  take  canoe  that  evening  at  the  turn  of  tlie 
tide.  I  hastily  tumbled  together  my  traps,  and 
borrowing  a  hammock,  and  trusting  to  fortune 
for  want  of  a  friend,  was  soon  ready  on  tlie 
Playa  Grande,  near  the  smooth,  broad  sands  of 
the  north  beach.       . 

A  traveller  arriving  from  the  Atlantic  side  of 
the   Isthmus,  with   eyes  wide  open  to  stare,  as 
Balboa  did,  at  the  Pacific,  stares  wider  when  he 
finds  it  at   Panama  to  the  east  instead  of  the 
west ;  and  as  he  sees  the  sun  come  up  over  the 
softly-glowing  bay,  he  fancies  that  Phoebus  must 
have  been  making  a  night  of  it,  the  night  before,  j 
among  the  "glorious  Apollers,'*  and  turned  cut  | 
of  the  wrong  side  of  his  bed.     He  is  half  per 
suaded   that,   after  all    the   toils  of  his   trans- 
Isthmian  travel,  he  has  only  wandered  about  ^\ 
one  does  in  the  labyrinths  of  a  tropical  forest, 
and  has  been  brought  back  to  the  shores  of  tlie  I 
tumultuous,  keel-vexed,  practical  Atlantic,  instead 
of  looking  out  upon   the  sea  that  washes  th«| 
shores  of  Inde  and  Cathay,  the  ocean  of  imagina 


THE   BAY. 


ai5 


tion  and  hope.  So  unexpected,  also,  is  the  turn 
of  the  coast,  that,  in  order  to  go  north  to  Cali- 
fornia, you  must  steer  almost  due  south  for  a 
hundred  miles.  The  points  of  the  compass  are 
as  much  reversed  as  social  position  in  tlie  gold- 
diggings. 

But  as  ex  post  facto  narratives  are  doubtless 
unconstitutional  in  Yankee  literature,  let  me 
proceed  regularly  ;  and  while  I  am  waiting  for 
the  tide  to  rise  its  twenty-three  feet,  and  cover 
the  conchological  mud  and  crustaceous  reef  of 
the  Bay,  let  me  speak  of  the  Bay,  —  this  beauti- 
ful Bay  of  the  tropics !  How  often  at  night, 
awakened  by  the  tap  of  Marcellino  at  my  door 
with  the  news  of  a  steamer  at  hand,  have  I 
embarked  and  hastened  out  upon  the  water.  It 
would  be  perhaps  an  hour  before  day,  but  still 
night,  —  a  night  of  clear,  soft,  yet  brilliant  star- 
light ;  and  there  the  stars  do  not  glitter  with  the 
steely  sharpness  of  a  northern  sky,  but  glow ; 
they  do  not  snap  out  a  lively  twinkle,  but 
slowly  flicker  and  sway ;  their  light  grows  upon 
the  eye,  as  the  light  of  a  revolving  lighthouse 
across  a  stretch  of  sea.  The  cool  night-breeze 
would  be  breathing  over  the  water,  freshening  as 
the  dawn  came  on.  Wreaths  of  mist  were  float- 
ing away  on  the  mainland  and  clinging  to  the 
mountainous  points  of  the  bay,  where  perhaps 
too  a  black  rain-cloud  lay  lowering.     For  each 


M  < 
1 ' 


816 


ISTHMIANA. 


•HI 


hi 

"  J 
t  A 

I 
t 


3 

'J 

! 


climate  are  its  own  atmospheric  beauties.  No 
where  but  in  England  and  the  Low  Countries 
should  you  study  effects  of  sunlight  through 
mist  and  rain-clouds.  Tliere  is  no  purple  in  tlio 
world  like  the  purple  of  Hymcttus.  Never  but 
at  a  Florentine  sunset  can  you  touch  light  made 
tangible,  and  grasp  it,  and  bathe  in  it,  and  be  up- 
borne by  it.  Nowhere  else  can  you  see  tliat  veil 
of  palpitating  azure  that  flows  down  after  sunset 
to  the  Lake  of  Geneva  from  the  summit  of  the 
Jura,  the  inmost  spirit  of  light  making  the  very 
peaks  transparent.  Tlie  snow  cones  of  Oregon 
rise  against  a  background  of  blue  unequalled  in 
depth  and  brilliancy.  In  the  tropics,  and  most 
exquisite  at  Panama,  before  sunrise  and  after 
sunset  tliere  spreads  upward  from  the  horizon  a 
violet  flush,  full  of  soft  glow,  vivid  with  sup- 
pressed light. 

It  is  pleasant  to  loci:  down  upon  anything  or 
anybody  ;  and  the  lower  one  has  been,  the  more 
delightful  becomes  the  consciousness  of  present 
elevation.  The  age  of  balloons  and  bird's-eye 
views  will  develop  human  vanity  to  an  insuffer- 
able degree.  But  some  of  our  pleasures  from 
looking  down  have  a  diflferent  origin.  A  view 
like  this  was  only  meant  to  be  seen  from  a  cer- 
tain height;  it  lacks  picturesqueness  and  the 
necessary  features  of  foreground  scenery  ;  it  is 
panoramic  in  Hm  nature.     We  will  draw  it  along 


|i' 


THE  BAY. 


317 


slowly  before  the  eyes  of  the  reader,  into  spcrsin*. 
tlie  representation  with  remarks  a  la  lianvard. 
Land  and  water  are  the  cliicf  objects  wo  beliold ; 
laud  oscillating  and  undulating  into  hills  covered 
with  deep,  rich  verdure  of  the  tropics,  and  water 
blue  and  clear,  with  its  waves  marked  only 
by  shifting  color,  that  shoots  over  the  smooth- 
seeming  surface, —  the  avrjpid^ov  yeXaafjua  of  the 
ocean.  The  land  is  the  Lsthmus  of  Panama,  a 
narrow  bank  between  two  worlds  of  sea,  —  one 
of  the  obstacles ;  the  water  is  the  Pacific,  the 
ocean  of  material  wealth  combined  with  ro- 
mance. But  though  a  wild  nature  still  rules 
undisturbed  over  the  greater  portion  of  the 
scene  before  us,  yet  man  has  thrust  his  so-called 
civilization  upon  the  scene,  and  that  rusty  spot 
that  disturbs  the  purity  of  the  view  is  one  of  his 
beauty-destroying  abodes.  Those  shabby,  tiled 
buildings,  those  dirty  church-spires,  and  huts 
like  ant-hills  surrounding,  arc  Panama,  —  wliilo 
a  suburb  more  important  than  the  parent  city  is 
represented  by  a  few  black  spots  upon  the  water, 
capacious  edifices,  that  move  to  and  fro  with  the 
surplus  population  of  the  town.  At  present  the 
small  peninsula  upon  which  the  town  is  built  is 
washed  by  the  tide ;  but  when  it  has  fallen,  an 
unsightly  reef  spreads  out  on  every  side,  much 
blasphemed  by  people  who,  under  a  vertical  sun 
aud  with  excoriated  feet,  walk  over  its  worm- 


818 


ISTUMIANA. 


•RfM 


eaten  surface.  The  town  is,  as  we  have  said, 
situated  upon  a  small  point  which  terminates  in 
the  old  Cyclopean  sea-wall  of  the  town,  whcro 
there  is  a  strong  bastion,  still  mounted  with  somo 
magnificent  bronze  guns,  and  serving  after  parch- 
ing days  as  a  delicious  cool  evening  promenade 
for  the  people.  This  is  Las  Bovedas,  or  the 
Battery,  which  deserves  a  separate  essay,  so 
largely  does  it  enter  into  the  list  of  Panama 
pleasures  and  Panama  occupations.  Away  to 
the  north  of  the  town  sweeps  in  a  beautiful  cres- 
cent a  smooth,  white  sand-beach,  terminating  in 
a  wooded,  rocky  point,  that  looks  back  into  tho 
town.  A  few  huts  straggle  along  this,  near  tho 
town,  sheltered  by  a  grove  of  cocoanut-trces, 
which  servo  as  parasols  or  umbrellas,  and,  while 
their  occasional  droppings  keep  down  the  super- 
abundant infant  population,  they  at  the  same 
time  accustom  the  more  warlike  to  the  dangers 
of  a  bombardment.  Farther  along  the  beach  a 
species  of  tree  grows  close  down  upon  the  sand, 
a  hedge  protecting  the  land  from  the  sea,  but  its 
verdure  is  traitorous ;  these  are  the  poisonous 
manzanilla,  the  Upas,  which  our  school-boy  elo- 
quence so  much  employed.  Beyond  the  wood- 
ed point,  another  cove,  though  not  so  perfect 
in  its  form,  commences  ;  and  here,  overgrown 
with  trees  and  weeds,  and  partially  covered  with 
the  quick-forming  rock  of  the  country,  are  tho 


1 ' 


THE   BAY. 


319 


scanty  ruins  that  mark  the  site  of  ohl  Panama, 
the  city  of  that  bold,  adventurous  spirit  whoso 
typo  was  Pizarro,  and  sufrp:ostcd  by  the  very 
sound  of  his  name.  Back  of  tliis,  and  between 
our  view-point  and  the  site  of  the  old  town, 
spread  I  Toad  savannas,  carpeted,  like  a  park,  with 
soft,  close-shaven  turf;  the  cattle  of  a  thousand 
hills  graze  quietly  over  its  undisturbed  surface, 
and,  when  the  sun  blazes,  cau  take  refuge  in  some 
of  the  rich  groves  or  close  thickets  of  tropical 
shrubbery  which  are  picturesquely  scattered  over 
its  surface,  or  follow  the  scanty  water-courses. 
Smooth  and  carefully  kept,  like  the  fair  meadows 
of  an  English  landscape,  appear  these  natural 
grazing-farms ;  and  respectable  enclosed  coun- 
tries, with  their  walls  and  hedges  and  ditches, 
can  offer  no  pleasure  like  a  free  gallop,  this  way 
and  that,  over  the  i)lains,  when  the  cool  breeze 
of  evening  is  flowing  down  over  tlie  hills,  and 
every  breath  liears  healing.  Tliese  llanos  lead 
liack  to  a  confused  collection  of  hills,  small  and 
conical,  like,  as  a  practical  friend  remarks,  the 
mounds  of  a  potato-patch,  and  thickly  wooded 
to  the  top.  Their  look  is  as  if  a  sea  of  land, 
tossed  into  irregular  waves  by  a  general  irruptiou 
of  diverse  winds,  had  been  suddenly  petrified. 
The  scene  is  new  and  individual. 

As  the  boat  made  its  way  to  the  steamer,  tho 
sun,  rising,  would  brhig  into  view  the  golden  cres- 


jtii 


Ilk     Jk 


hi 


F 

i 
I 

I 


I 

J 

m 

I 

i 

I 


320 


ISTHMIANA. 


cent  of  the  north  beach,  with  its  grove  of  grace- 
ful palms,  and  its  background  of  dark,  wooded 
liills.  The  solitary  tower  that  marks  the  site  of 
old  Panama  would  show  itself  clearly  against  the 
dense  vegetation  that  has  enveloped  the  once 
famous  city.  The  large  islands  drew  up  boldly 
against  the  bright  horizon,  and  the  small  were 
green  resting-places  for  the  eye  looking  ocean- 
ward.  The  bastions  and  towers  of  the  town  have 
grown  into  a  Mediterranean  variety  of  outline, 
and  the  dark  cloud  that  seemed  to  overhang  it 
has  resolved  itself  into  Ancon  Hill.  In  sharp 
contrast  to  the  repose  of  the  landscape  is  the 
scene  on  the  deck  of  the  steamer.  The  natives 
surround  her  with  a  flotilla  of  boats,  to  make 
prisoner  every  disembarking  Californian  with  his 
plunder.  These,  squalid  and  brigand-like,  hurry 
with  the  recompense  of  all  their  toils  in  view. 
Boxes  of  gold-dust  are  shoved  about  as  of  no 
value.  There  is  confusion  and  objurgation.  But 
the  rising  tide  warns  me  that  I  must  defer  any 
further  description  of  the  Bay,  and  return  to 
my  journey. 


THE  BOAT. 


321 


THE    BOAT. 


ts,  to  make 


The  sun  had  gone  down  perpendicularly,  and, 
after  the  soft,  pure,  purple  twilight,  hasty  night 
was  approaching,  as  a  tremulous  motion  of  the 
canoe  and  a  gentle  plash  of  the  waves  warned  us 
it  was  time  to  start.  Tlie  Padron  waked,  and,  call- 
ing his  hombre  passengers,  who  poco  ticmpo  came 
on  board,  got  his  clearance  by  going  ashore  in 
the  still  atmospliere,  with  a  candle  in  liis  hand, 
and  buying  a  bottle  of  chicha.  All  men  of 
Spanish  lineage  are  named  Josd.  All  the  Josds 
now  sprang  into  the  water,  and  lifted  the  canoe 
from  its  bed  in  the  mud.  Just  then  a  puff  of 
evening  breeze  swept  down  from  Ancon  Hill 
through  the  rustling  palms,  and  Josds,  taken  by 
surprise,  were  obliged  to  swim  for  it  sputtcr- 
ingly,  and  come  on  board  with  Tritonian  drip- 
pings. 

As  we  glided  away,  out  burst  from  the  other 
boats  a  full  chorus  of  Billingsgate  adieu.  Span- 
ish, the  language  of  devoted  tenderness,  is  like^ 
wise  a  medium  for  the  vilest  vituperation.  Ou*^ 
crew  received  and  returned  assurances  of  distin 
guished  consideration  as  lavishly  as  diplomatcs  • 
and  as  liit  or  retort  told,  the  quiet  bay  resounded 
wiMi  inextinguishable  laughter.  Gradually  all 
these  sounds  died  away  in  the  distance.  Panama 
became  the  ghost  of  a  city,  over  which   Ancou 


'1 


i     *f 

''«■ 

i     •*• 

'tM 

'     »t.. 

'«» 

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.ai 

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J 

r 

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1 

« 

i'   » 

1 

322 


ISTHmANA. 


Hill  hung  darkly  brooding.  "We  rustled  softly 
along  in  silence,  except  when  another  market- 
boat,  passing,  exchanged  flying  shots  or  a  broad 
side.  The  Padron  was  a  man  of  few  words  ;  lie 
reserved  his  fire  until  it  would  tell,  and  tlion 
poured  in  a  stunnner,  laughing  suppresscdly 
until  the  canoe  shook.  Presently  my  compan- 
ion turned  in,  and  I  remained  with  the  niglit. 
The  canoes  that  do  the  coast  market  trade  of 
Panama  are  made  mostly  in  Darien,  hollowed 
by  tool  and  fire  from  the  trunks  of  enormous 
tropical  trees.  Ours,  a  fair  type  of  the  class, 
was  about  forty  feet  long,  seven  beam,  round 
bottom,  and  very  little  keel  ;  she  consequently 
rolled  like  a  hollow  log,  as  she  was.  She  carried 
two  stumpy  masts,  with  ragged  square-sails  and 
a  small  foretopsail.  This  last  kept  the  Padron 
in  a  very  uncomfortable  state  ;  but,  as  one  of  the 
most  distinguished  mariners  of  the  Bay,  he  con- 
sidered it  due  to  his  pre-eminence  to  carry  it  as 
a  broad  pennant.  Such  boats  make  voyages  of 
more  than  one  hundred  miles  up  and  down  the 
coast,  and  bring  to  Panama  pigs,  turkeys,  chick- 
ens, eggs,  rice,  maize,  plantains,  pumpkins,  yams, 
olives,  potatoes,  candles,  cocoanuts,  chica,  cheese, 
&Q.  They  carry  a  considerable  number  of  na- 
tive passengers,  going  up  to  sell  their  own  stuff. 
Picturesque  craft  themselves,  their  arrival  makes 
the  beach  near  the  market-place  lively  and  pic- 


THE   BOAT. 


323 


turesque  as  a  sea-sliore  of  Claiule.  When  sell- 
ing of  eggs  and  oranges  becomes  the  sole  business 
of  a  life,  it  is  dignified,  and  1  have  seen  from  the 
Panama  market-women,  classically  "  dcmi  vctues 
dc  ces  plis  transparents  qui  coUent  aux  statues,'' 
melodramatic  action  that  would  have  done  honor 
to  Rachel  in  Lucrece. 

The  night  was  the  perfection  of  a  night  of  the 
tro[)ics,  softly  brilliant.  It  seemed  as  if  the 
glowing  sunlight  of  the  day  had  penetrated  the 
earth,  had  been  garnered  up,  and  was  now  dif- 
fused through  the  chastened  air,  like  the  tender 
memory  of  a  dazzling  passion.  Consecrate  to 
love  should  be  such  nights  ;  so  I  remained  idly 
dipping  my  hand  in  the  water  as  we  uncon- 
sciouhly  glided  along.  Presently  a  circle  of  fair 
forms  closed  around  me,  as  the  nymplis  about 
Rinaldo  in  the  enchanted  grove.  Each  bore  the 
scarcely  recognized  lineaments  of  some  well- 
known  face.  One  detached  hen<elf  from  the 
tlu'ong  and  laid  her  hand  upon  my  shoulder.  As 
she  approached,  a  masculine  hardness  grew  over 
her  delicate  features,  the  graceful  floating  of  her 
sylph-like  robe  resolved  itself  into  a  conventional 
attire,  a  black  beard  covered  the  bloom  of  1  er 
cheeks  ;  she  whispered,  "'  Senor,  the  l)oat  has  no 
gunwale  ;  yt)u  will  f.dl  overboard  if  you  go  lo 
bleep.'.'  '•  Thank  you,  Padron,"  said  I,  staiilng 
up  and  looking  into  the  crib  where  1  had  seon  my 


Is 

r  I 

•8,  mi 

I 


» 

r 
I 

'* 

• 

• 


hi' 

;l 

11 

!l 


324 


ISTHMIAN  A. 


companions  disappear,  as  pigeons  into  a  dove-cot. 
We  three  had  hired  the  whole  cabin  ;  it  was  ou 
deck,  about  two  feet  and  a  half  high.  My  two 
comrades,  taking  comfort  while  I  took  romance, 
had  stowed  themselves  fore  and  aft,  leaving  only 
a  very  narrow  space  atliwartship  for  me.  How 
I  got  into  my  place  is  a  secret  with  me  and  the 
manufacturers  of  india-rubber  springs  ;  and  how 
I  slept,  the  journals  of  the  guests  of  Procrustes 
will  explain.  So,  then,  the  earliest  of  morning 
saw  me  on  deck,  looking  at  the  new  scenes 
around  me.  White  sheep  are  said  to  eat  more 
than  black  ones  because  there  are  more  of  them, 
and  as  sunrise  does  not  enter  into  the  daily  ex- 
perience of  the  civilized  world,  it  is  generally 
conceded  to  be  rather  an  inferior,  sleepy  sort  of 
a  display.  If  I  had  been  under  the  dominion 
of  this  popular  fallacy,  this  sunrise  would  have 
given  a  new  view  of  the  subject. 

Thanks  to  a  fresh  night-breeze,  we  had  made 
lively  progress  during  my  torpidity,  and  were  still 
bowling  along  finely  with  a  shore  wind  on  the 
quarter.  The  foretopsail  was  still  the  trial  of 
the  Padron's  life.  The  island-mountain  of  Ta- 
boga  was  far  behind  us.  Melones,  where  I  had 
once  vainly  brought  all  my  gastronomical  knowl- 
edge to  bear  to  make  my  first  pelican  palatable, 
was  a  mere  line  upon  the  horizon.  Otoque  was 
dim  to  seaward.     We  lay  opposite  the  lofty,  bold 


THE   BOAT. 


325 


sierra  of  the  Morro  di  Chame.  Beyond  gtretchcd 
a  yellow  line  of  beach,  to  be  traversed  on  our 
return  journey  by  land.  We  were  perhaps  eight 
miles  from  shore  ;  but  in  the  clearness  of  the 
dawn  an  exquisite,  partially  wooded  slope  was 
revealed,  rising  gently  to  the  high  main  ridge  of 
the  Isthmus.  Tliere  were  no  stars  in  the  sky, 
but  the  same  violet  flush,  unknown  to  the  cold 
North,  was  spreading  upward  to  the  zenith. 
There  is  no  temptation  for  Aurora  to  dilly-dally 
in  the  tropics.  She  finds  the  saffron-bed  of 
Tithonus  too  warm  in  the  warm  morning.  She 
will  hasten  to  draw  up  coolness  from  the  dim 
thickets  of  the  swamp-forest,  to  catch  a  handful 
of  fresh  snow  from  the  summits  of  the  Cor- 
dillera. 

Presently  up  comes  a  great  round  glare  of  a 
sun,  and  the  fresh  wind,  unwilling  to  become  a 
sirocco,  flees  away  before  him. 

Jollity  among  the  natives  had  awakened  with 
the  dawn.  Happy  in  the  bliss  of  only  one  gar- 
ment and  no  toilette  to  make,  they  had  devoted 
the  time  we  waste  in  such  employ  to  the  cul- 
tivation of  their  social  faculties.  Fragments 
of  jokes  and  droning  songs  had  come  past  the 
perilous  foretopsail,  perilous  no  longer.  Now 
their  jollity  was  over ;  the  sun  was  upon  them ; 
they  baked  in  silence,  or  occasionally  only  splut- 
tered a  little,  like  an  unwilling  oyster  roasting. 


«.  ^ 


1 


f 


] 

r  !|T 

»    ;•    : 


it- 


326 


ISTHMIANA. 


Fortunately  I  was  provided  with  that  resource 
of  a  listless  traveller,  a  novel  of  Alexandre  Du- 
mas. All  tlmt  blasting  day,  as  we  lay  under  the 
shade  of  the  mainsail,  utterly  becalmed  except 
in  temper,  tlie  boat  quivered  with  my  laughter 
as  I  followed  the  wanderings  of  "  Les  Trois  Mous- 
quel  aires." 

All  that  day  we  lay  pinned  by  the  rays  of  the 
vertical  sun.  We  might  have  supposed  that  our 
canoe  had  sprouted,  like  a  sea-plant,  and  sent 
downward  its  long  roots  to  the  bottom  of  the  sea. 
The  Padron  had  forgotten  the  foretopsail,  and  in 
a  dull  slumber  let  the  tiller  carry  him  about  at 
its  wabbling  will. 

There  was  no  sign  of  life  ;  whales,  usually  so 
abundant,  refused  to  come  to  the  surface,  lest 
their  breath,  heated  to  explosion,  might  not  find 
speedy  enough  exit  through  its  escape-pipe  ;  the 
sharks  were  otf,  as  usual,  after  the  California 
steamer  ;  they  have  acquired  a  taste  for  Yankees. 
Occasionally  a  bird  Hew  past  us,  panting  for  the 
woods. 

What  my  companions  did  all  the  day  I  know 
not.  1  have  some  indistinct  recollection  of  their 
frying  slices  of  ham  on  the  palms  of  their  hands, 
and  1  am  quite  sure  that  I  heard  a  sound  of 
boiling  as  one  applied  an  orange  to  his  highly- 
tanne<l   lips. 

It  is  warm  on  the  desert  of  Sahara ;  it  is  warm 


THE   BOAT. 


327 


in  the  canons  of  California  ;  it  is  w^arm  in  the 
snows  of  Alpine  passes  in  Au<2^iist ;  it  is  warm  on 
the  sands  of  the  Great  Salt  Lake  Valley ;  it  is 
warm,  very  warm  at  the  Newport  hall ;  a  Stras- 
hurg  goose  has  a  warm  time, —  so  did  John 
Rogers.  But  if  you  wish  to  know  what  the 
word  Hot  means,  —  if  you  wish  to  experience  the 
sensation  of  having  every  drop  of  your  blood 
baked  into  brick-dust,  —  be  becalmed  in  a  bungo 
in  the  Bay  of  Panama. 

As  for  me,  the  supernatural  coolness  of  my 
heroes  somewhat  assisted  me,  and  1  managed  to 
survive,  though  I  have  ap[)reciated  much  better, 
ever  since,  tlie  curse  of  Kehama. 

With  evening  freshened  the  breeze  and  re- 
commenced our  life.  The  natives,  as  happy  a 
set  as  the  coast  Indians  of  North  America,  eat 
their  simple  fare  of  plantains  and  yams  with 
laugh  and  joke.  They  are  hap{)y  in  few  wants. 
The  Padron  was  an  excellent  specimen  of  his 
race,  a  line,  honest,  clear-eyed  fellow,  with  deli- 
cate features.  The  crew  were  active,  lithe  chaps, 
well  put  together,  muscular,  though  without  any 
of  tliat  exaggerated  development  that  marks  the 
arm  of  a  wood-cliopper  or  the  calf  of  a  dunseuse, 
Tlie  character  of  these  Isthmians  has  been  much 
belied  by  travellers.  The  great  rascals  of  the 
Isthmus  are  mostly  foreigners,  renegades  from 
the  West  Indies  and  coasts  of  South  America ; 


^! 


828 


ISTHMIANA. 


>"« 


here  they  find   a  harvest.      The    people  of   a 
thoroughfare   country   undoubtedly    always    de- 
teriorate, and  the  transit  to  California  has  had 
a  bad  effect  on  the  natives.     Money  is  lavished 
among  them ;  they  have  few  artificial  wants  to 
supply,  and,  having  no  other  way  of  spending,  con- 
sequently consume  it  in  riotous  living.     Person- 
ally I  have  never  met  with  anything  but  civility, 
and  even  kindness ;  their  easy  dilatoriness  must 
be  treated  philosophically.     Of  course  the  poco 
tiempo   stylo  of    management  does   not    suit  a 
Yankee.     His  interests  are  all-important  to  him- 
self, and,  accustomed  to  make  all  obstacles  yield, 
he   is   annoyed   and    exasperated    to    find   that 
there  are   people  who,  when  they  have  enough 
for  the  moment,  are  contented.     It  is  not  indo- 
lence,   but    sound    philosophy,  in    a   cargadore 
or  an  arriero  of  Panama,  knowing  that  in  two 
days  he  can  earn  enough  money  for  a  week's 
support,  to  give  up  work,  and  take  the  satisfaction 
in  life  that  nature  marked  out  for  him.     He  need 
not  wait  till  old  age  for  repose.     He  has  no  con- 
ventional wants.     It  is  not  his  place  in  life  to 
become  a  tool  of  civilization,  of  a  civilization  un- 
known and  uncared  for ;  he  need  not  spend  an 
existence  in  toil  that  the  proletariat  of  distant 
France   may   eat  biown-bread  ;    that  the   vine- 
dressers of  the  Rhine  may  live ;  that  a  certain 
number  of  carpenters  and  masons  may  earn  two 


THE   BOAT. 


329 


dollars  a  day  in  buildinj?  his  warehouses  and 
mansions  ;  and  that  squads  of  the  potato-fed  may 
Ftretch  him  a  thousand  miles  of  railroad.  It  is 
all  very  well  to  day,  ''  Better  fifty  years  of  Europe 
than  a  cycle  of  Cathay "  ;  but  to  whom  is  it 
better  ?  To  the  delicately  nurtured,  to  the 
cared-for  of  fortune,  the  frvges  consumere  natus, 
but  not  to  the  ignorant,  the  forgotten,  —  no,  not 
forgotten,  —  the  intentionally  crushed  peasant, 
brutalized  beyond  barbarism  by  tlie  selfishness 
of  systems,  of  societies,  not  founded  upon  the 
theory  of  equal  rights  to  all.  Nature  is  kind  to 
all  in  the  tropics. 

The  night  passed  very  much  as  the  previous 
one  had  done.  Profiting  by  my  experience, 
however,  I  managed  to  bestow  myself  a  little 
more  conveniently,  and  the  heat  had  shrunk  us 
all  so  that  we  packed  better. 

The  admirable  compensations  of  Nature  are 
nowhere  more  perfectly  perceived  than  in  a 
tropical  night.  The  day  may  have  been  "  re- 
morseless," but  the  night  is  a  kind  restorer.  It 
is  not  only  a  change  to  the  senses,  not  merely  a 
different  temperature,  not  merely  that  the  crushed 
air  revives,  and  the  atmospheric  particles  which 
have  been  bullied  by  the  staring  sun  into  a 
shrinking  isolation,  now  awake  to  sociality  and 
glad  circulation,  rushing  here  and  there  like 
children  released.     But  there  is  also  a  spiritual 


830 


ISTHMTANA- 


effect  in  the  tropical  night ;  the  repose  of  Nature 
speaks  peace  to  the  soul.  Tlie  dreamy  starlight 
and  still  more  dreamy  moonlight  are  balm  to  tii« 
bothered. 

All  that  night,  with  a  breeze  that  was  "  as 
mild  as  it  was  strong,  and  as  strong  as  it  was 
mild,"  we  sailed  along,  and  sunrise  next  morn- 
ing found  us  off  the  mouth  of  tlie  River  de  Los 
Santos,  waiting  for  the  tide  to  take  us  over 
the  bar. 


THE    RIVER. 


Few  rivers  die  gloriously.  This  small  one  of 
ours  flowed  sluggishly  into  the  sea  through  a 
thicket  of  mangroves.  The  roots  of  these,  on 
account  of  the  great  rise  and  fall  of  the  water, 
were  longer  than  their  tops  at  low  tide  ;  they 
seemed  like  plants  on  stilts. 

Presently  we  penetrated  this  thicket,  the  men 
jumping  out  and  liauling  the  boat  through  the 
mud.  Here  the  banks  were  a  low,  rich  alluvion, 
recking  with  swampiness  ;  but  above  were  noble 
trees,  and  occasionally  open  spots  in  the  forest 
where  cattle  were  feeding,  —  domestic  cattle,  look- 
ing strangely  out  of  place  where  was  as  yet  no 
sign  of  human  habitation.  It  has  a  strange  and 
solemn  effect  to  be  initiated  thus  suddenly  into 
the  very  arcana  of  Nature.     You  pass  the  portal, 


THE   RIVER. 


331 


you  draw  aside  the  drapery  of  vines  tliat  con- 
coaled  it,  and  are  at  once  in  the  private  apart- 
ments of  Nature ;  here  she  is  no  trim,  toiletted 
huly,  such  as  we  have  made  her  in  finislied 
countries.  Tiiere  is  no  one  here  to  burn  up  her 
old  clothes,  and  her  fresh  attire  of  to-day  con- 
trasts too  carelessly  with  the  heap  of  cast-oiT  gar- 
ments upon  wliich  slie  is  standing.  The  tropical 
forest  is  luxuriant  in  the  extreme,  but  neglected. 
It  should  be  always  seen  from  the  bank  of  a 
river  ;  the  constant  moisture  gives  more  freshness 
to  the  foreground,  while  in  seeing  the  forest 
from  a  path  you  are  perplexed,  as  Yankee  Doodle 
is  said  to  have  been  on  his  first  visit  to  town,  by 
an  embarras  de  riches ses. 

Then  here  we  had  life,  as  well  as  inanimate 
nature.  Gay  parrots  and  macaws  sent  gleams 
of  green  and  gold  flashing  through  the  vines' 
drapery.  Monkeys  roared  and  chattered  ;  there 
was  a  general  hum  of  insect  life  in  the  cool 
morning.  There  was  a  sound  like  the  deep  note 
of  an  oboe,  as  the  alligators,  with  a  yawn,  plumped 
from  the  banks  into  the  water ;  they  plumped 
hke  falling  cocoanuts  in  a  gale  of  wind.  For  a 
while,  I  respected  their  lazy  lolling ;  but  one  lay 
showing  his  white  waistcoat  so  invitingly,  that  I 
could  not  refrain  from  taking  a  shot  at  thirty 
yards  with  my  five-shooter.  "  Lo  pego  !  lo  pego  ! 
—  popped  him !  "   was  the  joyous  shout  of  the 


332 


ISTHMIAN  A. 


H 


I 


J 


r 


I 


1 

3 

!■; 

■*:'.'! 

%,■' 

*; 

1 

• 

f  M 

C  ! 

1 

• 

•  :l! 

» 

-  i 

—  ■ 

boatmen,  as  ho  rolled  heavily  into  tne  stream. 
I  immediately  became  a  hero,  and  tlie  Pa(hoii 
vouchsafed  to  me  his  learning  in  the  natural 
liistory  of  the  animal.  lie  told  me,  a  fact  not 
generally  known,  that  alligators  never  die,  but, 
when  they  have  attained  with  age  to  the  duo 
amount  of  experience,  are  translated  from  the 
narrow  this  life  of  the  river  to  a  higher  sphere, 
—  the  broad  eternity  of  the  ocean.  Hence  oc- 
casionally the  adventurous  see  their  vast  bulk 
rearing  itself  up  terribly  for  an  instant.  This  is 
satisfactory,  as  accounting  for  the  sea-serpent. 
Bred  in  the  tepid  waters  of  a  tropical  river,  what 
a  new  sensation  it  must  be  to  our  promoted  alli- 
gator to  take  his  first  cold  bath,  and  to  swira 
along  the  romantic  coast  of  Norway  in  the  guise 
of  a  Kraken  !  • 

It  was  a  tough  tug  against  the  coffee-colored 
current,  rapid  as  are  all  the  Isthmian  rivers. 
The  athletes  of  the  boat,  with  glistening  skins, 
strained  powerfully  against  the  stream  with  set- 
ting-poles. We  who  live  in  the  intemperate 
climates  of  temperate  zones  are  forced  to  be  sar- 
torian  slaves.  A  vicious  conventionalism  does 
not  allow  us  to  admire  the  nude,  except  in  mar- 
ble. But  if  deformity  of  figure  must  be  dis- 
guised, why  not  deformity  of  face  ?  Where  are 
the  perpetual  veils  for  the  snub-nosed,  the  pug- 
nosed,  the  blubber-lipped  ?  Our  boatmen  worked 
away  untrammelled  by  attire.  ^ 


ciniR^s. 


833 


The  day  grew  warmer,  and  the  tliick  shade  of 
interlacing  hranchcs  and  vines  hecame  more 
grateful.  Sometimes  there  was  only  passage  hy 
drawing  aside  the  close  foliage,  and  then,  as  our 
canoe  thrust  itself  along,  flocks  of  hirds  would 
ho  disturhed,  some  of  hrilliant,  unfamiliar  plu- 
mage, with  pure  white  herons,  and  flamingoes, 
and  macaws  screaming  like  a  had-tempcred  Nor- 
man-French bonne. 

At  last  the  masts  of  a  sunken  schooner  pointed 
out  the  spot  of  no  farther  progress.  With  the 
unwilling  willingness  that  marks  the  end  of  a 
journey,  we  bade  adieu  to  the  canoe. 


CHITRfeS. 


The  Padron  offered  to  go  up  to  the  village,  and 
send  down  animals  to  convey  our  traps.  Mean- 
time we  waited  on  the  bank.  It  was  a  forlorn 
place,  and  thickets  shut  off  the  view.  We  found 
a  little  opening  of  dried  mud  under  a  scrubby 
oak.  Here  we  consumed  an  hour  and  the  re- 
mainder of  our  grub,  finishing  also  our  last  bottle 
of  Chateau  Margaux.  I  knew  it  was  Chateau 
Margaux,  because  the  label  said  so. 

Then  I  drowsed.  It  was  December.  As  ex- 
treme heat  and  cold  are  the  same  sensation,  I 
was  enjoying  the  same  temperature  as  my  friends 


334 


ISTHmANA. 


'1 

♦'  ..a 

£•1 

fii.* 


north  of  the  fortieth  parallel.     How  charming  is 
sympathy ! 

Pretty  soon  our  messenger  appeared  with  two 
animals.  I  am  intentionally  non-committal  on 
the  subject  of  their  race.  Their  owners  called 
them  "  bestias  *' ;  their  brands  gave  no  explana- 
tion ;  perhaps  they  were  lamas.  We  placed  our 
luggage  on  their  backs,  and  walked  forward. 
Our  path  soon  brought  us  through  the  thicket  on 
the  riv  r  to  a  more  open  country.  A  thin,  fer- 
rugi  '  .s  soil  supported  a  short,  scanty  herbage. 
Groups  of  shrubbery,  with  bushes  of  the  fragrant 
flowering  mimosa  were  scattered  about.  As  we 
advanced,  the  landscape  improved  ;  we  were  en- 
tering Arcadia.  Bright  before  us,  verdant  as  a 
New-England  valley  in  June,  spread  an  emerald 
savanna.  Its  short  grass  was  smooth  as  the  turf 
of  an  English  park.  Trees  of  enormous  shade 
stood  in  solitary  expansiveness,  or  were  grouped 
in  graceful  union.  Under  their  shade  the  small 
but  picturesque  cattle  of  the  country  sheltered 
themselves  from  the  ardent  sun.  Presently  we 
began  to  see  houses  and  corrals.  These  last  were 
enclosed  by  stakes  of  the  sidruelo,  which,  as  soon 
as  they  are  planted,  sprout  and  grow  up  twenty 
or  thirty  feet  in  a  single  season,  bunching  at  the 
top  like  pollard  willows.  The  long  shoots  are 
trimmed  off,  and  used  in  building  huts,  but  the 
green  tree  palisade  remains.     Around  these  cor- 


CHITRfcS. 


335 


rals  the  prickly  pimiila,  or  wild  pine-apple,  springs 
up,  and,  when  they  are  neglected,  this  and  larger 
plants  form  an  impenetrable  thicket.  Within  is 
the  softest  and  most  verdant  grass  ;  the  cattle 
keep  a  narrow  entrance  open.  When  you  find 
one  of  these  deserted  corrals  far  from  any  present 
settlement,  it  is  like  a  fairy  ring. 

The  houses  were  of  most  simple  construction, 
— basket-work  of  withes  covered  with  mud  knead- 
ed into  consistency  by  means  of  long  rushes.  In 
the  parching  heats  of  the  dry  season,  when  every- 
thing green  is  gone,  the  cattle  straying  about  find 
these  rushes  very  convenient,  and  pulHng  away 
at  them  bring  the  houses  down  about  the  ears  of 
the  careless  tenants,  wliile  often  the  rains  of  the 
rainy  season  do  the  same.  Careless  because  it 
requires  no  heavy  outlay  of  capital  or  labor  to  re- 
construct. The  owner  goes  to  his  corral,  cuts 
down  the  tops  of  his  fence  in  sufficient  quantity, 
or  cuts  canes  in  the  swamp.  He  then  goes  to  the 
swamp  and  collects  a  boat-load  of  rushes.  He 
builds  a  fire,  puts  on  one  enormous  kettle  of  rice 
to  boil  and  another  of  chicha,  and  calls  in  his 
neighbors  to  a  raising-bee.  They  wattle  the 
walls,  and  thatch  the  roof,  and  plaster  the  sides, 
all  very  speedily,  and  then  sit  down  to  a  debaucli 
on  boiled  rice,  plantains,  and  chicha.  Their  rev- 
elr}  terminates,  as  in  civilized  countries,  by  a  ball 
prolonged  far  into  the  night. 


836 


ISTHMIANA. 


Near  every  house  is  a  hanging  garden  on  a 
small  scale,  a  bed  of  earth  raised  six  or  seven 
feet  on  poles,  for  protection  from  cattle  and  rep- 
tiles, and  planted  with  onions  and  vegetables. 
Occasionally,  also,  we  found  plantations  of  rice 
and  maize.  The  latter  gives  three  crops  a  year. 
Troops  of  pack  animals  constantly  passed  us, 
laden  with  enormous  hide  ceroons,  filled  with 
grain.     The  scene  was  pastoral. 

Near  the  village  we  found  a  number  of  people 
collected  for  a  raising-bee  such  as  I  have  de- 
scribed, —  a  junto  they  would  call  it.  The  first 
operation  was  finished,  and  the  house  stood,  a 
great  square  basket,  like  a  crockery  crate.  A 
kettle  four  feet  in  diameter,  filled  with  boiled 
rice,  stood  waiting  the  time  of  repose.  In  honor 
of  the  occasion,  the  women  were  freshly  dressed 
in  white,  and  decked  with  flowers. 

It  was  now  meridian ;  the  sun  came  perpen- 
dicularly down ;  our  shadows  had  sunk  into  our 
boots.  Peter  Schlemihl  would  have  found  fel- 
lowship among  us.  We  were  rejoiced  to  arrive 
at  the  Plaza  of  the  village,  and  take  refuge  in 
the  Padron's  hut,  one  of  the  principal  houses 
of  the  town.  The  Plaza  is  a  small  square,  sur- 
rounded by  houses  such  as  I  have  described,  with 
tiled  roofs  extending  down  to  form  a  porch.  The 
church  is  distinguished  from  the  others  only  by  a 
cracked  bell  suspended  outside.  .,  ..  i 


CHITRES. 


837 


The  Padron  was  an  excellent  fellow,  and  mer- 
ited his  good  fortune  in  having  a  most  charming 
wife,  one  of  the  most  exquisite  persons  I  have 
ever  seen,  of  delicate  features,  a  pure,  dark  com- 
plexion, brilliant,  with  a  dark  flush.  Her  younger 
sister  was  even  more  delicate  and  sylph-like ;  I 
was  tempted  to  stay  and  forget  civilization  in  her 
society ;  I  am  sorry  I  did  not. 

They  brought  us  oranges,  and  sounds  of  gasp- 
ing chickens  were  heard  from  the  poultry-yard. 
We  hung  our  hammocks,  and  reposed.  I  have 
spoken  of  tlie  compensations  of  Nature.  Among 
these,  and  foremost,  let  me  not  forget  the  ham- 
mock. The  hammock  to  a  bed  is  what  flying  is 
to  walking.  Here  a  stratum  of  cool  air  sur- 
T'r-  ired  us,  and  the  close  packing  of  the  boat 
^  '    Tjrgotten. 

From  my  hammock  in  the  porch  I  could  look 
out  upon  the  fair  landscape  Arcadian,  over  the 
exquisitely  undulating  greensward,  unbroken  as 
far  as  the  eye  could  reach,  except  by  the  scat- 
tered huts  and  their  small  enclosures.  Each  of 
these  was  marked  by  its  rich  grove  of  orange- 
trees,  and  its  shading,  ever-tremulous  cocoa-palms. 
Cattle,  droves  of  horses,  and  all  the  smaller  do- 
mestic animals,  strayed  about.  Among  them 
tumbled  nude  children.  *• 

In  the  heats  of  the  dry  season,  when  all  ver- 
dure is  destroyed,  and  all  the  houses  that  can  bo 

16  y 


j^: 
IK; 


II 


H 


338 


ISTHMIANA. 


'Ik 


i;^ 


I  1 


i 

ft 


] 

I 


'i^ 


spared  are  eaten  up,  the  cattle  are  driven,  as 
in  cold  Switzerland,  high  up  on  the  sides  of  the 
mountains. 

One  of  the  enclosures  struck  me  as  having  a 
more  finished  air  than  its  neiglibors.  A  cart, 
like  a  degraded  omnibus,  stood  before  it.  Have 
Yankee  pedlers  penetrated  even  here  ?  I  rolled 
out  of  my  hammock,  and  approached. 

Surrounded  by  its  little  grove  of  trees,  was  an 
octagonal  pavilion,  not  unlike  a  Dutch  summer- 
house, —  Man  repos,  &c.,  —  architecturally  con- 
structed of  wood,  and  painted  green.  In  front, 
guarding  the  entrance,  and  frowning  perpetually 
upon  the  pigs  and  chickens,  was  a  colossal  wood- 
en statue  of  Napoleon,  in  typical  attire  (il  avail 
son  petit  chapeau,  and  all).  My  astonishment  at 
meeting  an  old  friend  in  such  a  spot  must  have 
been  expressed  audibly,  for  from  under  the  shade 
of  this  most  gigantic  and  terrible  of  Penates  ap- 
peared the  unmistakable  nationality  of  a  Gaul. 
He  invited  me  in,  told  me  his  history,  and  intro- 
duced me  to  Madame.  He  was  a  Bordelais,  and 
after  many  vicissitudes  had  provided  himself  a 
little  schooner,  and  was  marketing  for  Panama 
along  the  coast.  This  was  his  country  retreat. 
His  household  god  had  been  the  figure-head  of  a 
condemned  vessel.  His  omnibus  was  a  specula- 
tion, a  failure  in  Panama,  for  transporting  freight 
over  the  savanna  to  the  landing.    The  whole  style 


CHITRES. 


339 


of  the  thing  was  original  and  inattendu.  How 
little  did  I  suppose,  when  I  trained  my  Yankee 
tongue  to  Parisian  accents,  that  I  should  use 
them  in  the  wilds  of  South  America,  and  pay 
compliments  to  a  Bordeaux  g-risette,  promoted 
to  a  bourg-eoisef  in  the  land  of  the  banana  and 
tlie  cocoa-nut. 

The  hospitable  wife  of  our  hospitable  Padron 
bad  meantime  prepared  us  a  most  acceptable 
meal  in  tlie  cookery  school  of  the  country,  of 
which  more  anon.  In  the  cool  of  the  afternoon 
we  walked  over  to  the  neighboring  town  of  La 
Villa  de  los  Santos,  where  my  companions  had 
business,  and  we  hoped  to  find  horses  for  our 
farther  progress. 

Over  savannas  sprinkled  with  plantations  of 
plantain  patches,  we  came  to  La  Villa.  Though 
only  caballeros  are  respected  in  Spanish  towns, 
here  strangers  were  too  important  to  have  it 
very  particularly  inquired  into  how  they  came. 
Some  one  had  arrived  ;  it  might  be  easily  in- 
ferred that  the  steeds  had  been  left  in  the 
suburbs. 

A  quiet,  convulsive  tremor  of  excitement  ran 
along  the  grass-covered  streets.  Mild-eyed,  mel- 
ancholy women  greeted  our  Spanish  friend,  and 
the  impassive  men  came  out  to  meet  him,  and 
to  hope  he  brought  no  news,  and  that  nothing 
new   had    happened.     It  was    evident,  without 


840 


I6THMIANA. 


« >-« 
%-^ 

•'4 

Di 
J 

■'Ml 

) 

i 

\   . 
*] 

e  I 

,  Is' 


f 

r 


inquiry,  that  nothing  had  or  ever  would  happen 
here,  except  the  two  great  events  of  life. 

The  tiled  roofs  of  the  houses  projected  over 
the  street,  and,  supported  by  wooden  pillars, 
formed  an  arcade,  under  which,  tilted  back  in 
their  hide-seated  chairs,  sat  the  natives.  All  the 
interiors  consisted  of  a  large  room,  with  high 
ceiling,  paved  floor,  and  scantily  furnished,  as  is 
the  manner  of  the  country,  with  a  few  chairs,  a 
hammock,  and  a  table. 

The  Governor  of  the  Province  of  Azmero,  of 
which  this  is  the  capital,  received  us  most  kindly, 
and  made  us  his  guests  for  the  night.  He  was  a 
progressive,  intelligent,  gentlemanly  fellow,  and 
felt  sadly  isolated  where  he  was.  B.  and  I 
strolled  out  to  see  the  town.  The  church  was 
filled  with  the  fresh  toilettes  of  the  ladies  in 
the  peculiarly  graceful  attire  of  the  country.  It 
consists  of  a  skirt  of  some  light-figured  or  em- 
broidered muslin,  often  made  with  two  or  more 
flounces.  There  is  no  waist  nor  sleeves ;  but  a 
large  cape,  of  the  same  or  some  lighter  material, 
is  thrown  over  the  shoulders,  gather»^d  by  a  rib- 
bon about  the  neck  more  or  less  closely,  as  the 
wearer  pleases.  There  is  a  most  graceful  ease 
and  abandon  in  the  attire.  As  the  climate  is 
warm,  the  ladies  are  dScolletSes  enough  to  suit 
the  most  "  emancipated  "  taste,  and  the  row  of 
bright  shoulders,  as  they  all  kneel  in  church,  is 


CHITR]£S. 


341 


worthy  of  a  full-dress  occasion.  All  had  fresh 
flowers  in  their  hair.  I  was  charmed  then  and 
the  whole  evening. 

The  imbecile  old  priest  insisted  upon  embrac- 
ing the  strangers  after  mass.  Padre  Agriol  was 
seventy-five,  so  he  told  us.  He  was  snuffy  as  a 
cardinal,  and  redolent  of  agua  diente.  The 
church  has  retained  some  valuable  silver  cande- 
labra and  ornaments  In  general,  these  have 
been  all  taken  or  plundered  from  the  churches 
of  New  Granada. 

Horses  strayed  in  herds  unheeded  about  the 
town,  but  no  one  would  take  the  trouble  to  get 
them  for  us.  We  spent  next  day  lounging  about 
La  Villa.  I,  susceptible  fellow,  was  in  ecstasies 
all  the  while  with  the  beauty  of  the  ladies,  and 
accused  my  English  companion  of  failing  in  the 
true  cosmopolitan  spirit  when  he  refused  to  colo- 
nize with  me. 

In  the  afternoon  we  started  on  our  return. 
When  we  reached  the  suburb,  down  came  a 
tropical  torrent.  The  roads  were  impassable. 
We  impressed  a  little  ragamuffin,  who  had  come 
into  town  on  a  nag  between  two  hide  ceroons, 
full  of  mami  apples  (at  twelve  reals  per  hun- 
d'  I)  ;  he  offered  to  provide  us  with  horses.  A 
good-natured  man  is  always  the  scapegoat.  It 
was  determined  that  I  should  mount  with  him, 
and  be  deposited,  and  he  return  with  two  ani- 


w 

ra 


842 


ISTIimANA. 


mals  for  the  others.  I  essayed  to  mount,  and, 
seizhig  the  saddle,  sprung  up ;  but  the  saddle 
was  merely  placed  on  the  back  of  the  beast. 
The  balance  of  power  was  no  longer  preserved. 
I  was  at  once  deposited  sooner  than  I  expected. 
I  found  myself  immersed  in  the  pool  before  the 
door,  and  emerged  more  or  less  muddy.  After 
sympathy,  and  much  rubbing  and  brushing,  a 
second  attempt  was  more  successful.  I  mounted, 
and,  grasping  the  neck  of  the  animal  with  my 
legs,  started.  The  boy  was  placed  dos  d  dos 
to  me,  that  no  requirement  of  pilotage  might 
interfere  with  his  proper  duties  as  locomotive 
agent.  A  sound  as  if  of  battered  bones  was 
heard  ;  we  were  en  route,  I  found  our  charming 
hostess  and  her  sister  as  kind  as  before.  The 
Padron  promised  us  horses  early  next  morning 
for  our  ride  to  Parita. 


PARITA. 

The  ride  thither  was  dullish.  There  must  bo 
prose  among  the  poetry  of  travel.  We  have  high 
authority  for  thinking  that  there  is  happiness 
even  d'aimer  une  bete  after  the  tension  of  an 
exciting  passion.  The  quiet  and  matter-of-fact 
among  women  are  charming  after  the  deeply 
intellectual  and  inquisitive.  Our  road  was  up 
and  down  over  a  dry,  uninteresting,  partially 


PARITA. 


343 


wooded  country.  We  crossed  one  or  two  coffee- 
colored  rivers  flowing  between  alluvial  canal 
banks.  Flocks  of  brilliant  macaws  flew  scream- 
ing along.  Occasionally  a  deer  dashed  across  our 
path.  Parita  was  rustier  than  any  town  thus  far. 
Nothing  can  be  more  distinct  than  the  contrast 
between  these  places  and  those  of  Yankee  land. 
Go  even  into  some  most  retired  and  insignificant 
country  village  of  New  England :  it  will  have 
its  broad  avenue,  beautifully  overshadowed  by 
drooping  elms,  with  which  every  respectable  and 
well-kept  old  house  is  shrouded  ;  its  little  knot 
of  lively  shops,  where  farmers  have  come  to  sell 
butter  and  buy  hoes,  the  village  belles  to  match 
half  a  yard  of  ribbon,  and  flirt  with  the  store- 
keeper's " gentlemanly  attaches"  and  the  lawyer, 
a  legislator  in  intention,  to  propitiate  the  elect- 
ors ;  every  one  has  a  motive  ;  every  one,  there- 
fore, lives  cafculat  erpi'o  est,  as  Descartes  would 
have  said.  On  a  high,  breezy  hill  the  church 
and  school-house  dominate  the  town,  whose  nu- 
cleus and  type  they  are.  Below,  on  a  level,  is 
a  tall  obelisk  of  brick,  consecrate  to  industry ; 
around  its  base,  less  incongruously  than  about 
the  Washington  Monument,  are  clustered  tlio 
fanes  and  shrines  where  a  devoted  band  of  priests 
and  priestesses  are  perpetually  offering  their  will- 
ing oblations  to  this  goddess,  protector  and  pre- 
server of  the  land.     A  perpetual  hum  is  heard, 


844 


ISTIIMIANA. 


5-2 

c 
I 


I' 

n 

s  • 


not  less  Yoiceful  to  the  appreciative  than  the 
chants  and  clanging  cymbals  of  the  Parthenon. 
Occasionally,  a  rush  and  a  roar  and  a  rattle  and 
a  scream  and  a  hurrying  locomotive  tell  that  a 
scene  at  once  so  busy  and  so  beautiful  is  not 
isolated  from  metropolitan  influence.  Every- 
thing is  new,  neat,  and  orderly,  —  too  much  so, 
you  will  say,  —  but  not  in  contrast  with  the 
Spanish  town.  , 

There,  though  the  land  is  of  no  value,  the 
main  avenue  of  the  village  is  a  mean,  narrow, 
crooked  lane,  destitute  of  picturesqueness,  be- 
cause it  meanders  not  between  green  hedges  or 
noble  trees,  but  is  suggested  rather  than  marked 
by  rusty,  decayed  hut-houses  guiltless  of  repair 
or  refreshment.  The  street  is  dusty,  dry,  dull. 
Not  a  soul  ventures  out  except  the  ill-omened 
presence  of  a  rusty,  black-robed  priest,  rejoiced 
to  be  rid  of  his  thankless  soliloquy  ^'n  the  church, 
itself  also  a  fitting  type  of  the  place  it  has  col- 
lected around  it.  A  few  sad  donkeys  are  eating 
up  the  cocoa-nut-rinds  at  the  foot  of  the  cocoa- 
nut-tree  in  the  centre  of  the  square,  the  only 
verdant  thing  that  the  ardent  sun  has  spared. 
Travellers  arrive,  not  hurriedly  arriving,  or  to 
depart,  but  as  if  an  hour  or  a  day  more  or  less 
in  a  lifetime  was  not  worth  the  effort  of  a 
thought.  A  droning  sound  is  heard  from  the 
house  where  was  the  fandango  last  night;  one 


GRANADA   HOSPITALITY. 


345 


n,  narrow, 


of  tlie  musicians,  compelled  by  the  force  of 
inertia,  is  drumming  still  upon  his  sheep-skiu 
stretched  over  the  top  of  a  hollow  log.  But  a 
noise  more  animating  strikes  the  ear  ;  two  old 
women  are  shrilly  slanging  each  other  as  only 
hag  crones  can  abuse.  Tlio  stranger  is  excited. 
Will  they  clapperclaw  ?  lie  approaches,  and 
finds  that  this  stormy  warfare  is  of  words  alone ; 
the  two  old  ladies  sit  tilted  back  against  the  wall, 
their  countenances  are  unmoved,  the  Billings- 
gate flows  spontaneously  from  their  calm  li[)S. 

Whenever  I  desire  stagnation,  total,  absolute, 
and  perpetual,  I  shall  seek  it  in  some  village  of 
New  Granada ! 


GRANADA    HOSPITALITY. 

Hospitality  is  the  virtue  of  scantily  inhabited 
countries.  When  a  man  can  make  his  own  room 
Ills  castle  at  an  inn,  ho  ceases  to  become  a  social 
animal.  It  is  delightful  in  Oriental  regions  to  be 
the  guest  of  the  Pacha,  and  to  take  your  coffee  and 
your  pipe  in  his  serene  presence ;  but  would  the 
distinguislied  foreigner  arriving  at  Washington  be 
pleased  were  he  forced  to  take  his  cocktail  and 
cigar  only  at  the  Presidential  mansion  and  in  the 
Presidential  presence  ?  Infer  not  from  this  de- 
cay of  hospitality,  0  reactionist,  O  laudator  lem- 
ports  aeiiy  that  man  has  become  selfish,  that  this 

15* 


346 


ISTIIMIANA. 


t 

4 


seclusion  is  from  dislike  of  society.  No  ;  for  tins 
is  the  great  secret  of  tlie  liij^hest  civilization,  tluit 
it  alone  has  made  the  independent  development 
and  perfection  of  the  individual  possible  ;  it  is 
only  in  a  crowd  that  you  can  truly  be  alone. 
The  unenlightened  draw  together  like  trees  in  a 
copse,  and  are  dwarfed.  Tlieir  public  opinion  is 
general,  minute,  Procrustean.  Public  opinion 
enlightened  is  as  simple  as  the  noblest  music  and 
the  highest  art.  It  says  only,  "  To  thine  own 
self  be  true  ;  thou  canst  not  then  bo  false  to  any 
man."  Even  in  the  dense  forest  of  society  a  man 
may  find  a  spot  for  spontaneous  growth,  and  the 
sincere,  untrammelled  broadening  of  a  character 
will  always  be  worthy.  Cut  off  sunlight  from 
the  infant  oak,  or  admit  it  only  through  a  gap  in 
foliage,  and  your  tree  will  be  stunted  or  gro- 
tesque. The  best  education  is  one  that  starts 
a  man  in  life  emancipated  from  crushing  con- 
ventionalisms ;  and  that  is  a  bad  system  that 
sends  out  machines  or  oddities,  —  for  oddity 
is  in  social  life  often  only  the  unhealthy  and 
distorted  action  of  a  vigorous  character,  whicli, 
if  there  had  been  no  attempt  at  clipping  or  trim- 
ming, would  have  been  marked,  but  not  singular. 
But  to  return.  Though  I,  as  a  civilized  man, 
might  not  approve  of  the  civility  which  obliged 
me  to  quit  the  unquestioned  liberty  and  permitted 
Bulkiucss  of  my  bachelor  quarters  at  my  inu  for 


GRANADA    IlOSriTALITY. 


347 


tho  abode  of  my  inillioniuiiro  friohd,yet  it  is  very 
diirorciit  ill  a  country  where  there  are  no  inns. 
Tlie  vilhi^o  of  IVrita  was,  as  I  liave  hinted  in  my 
hii>t  chapter,  not  inark«!(i  hy  the  dchcate  neatness 
of  its  houses,  lu  fact,  there  was  only  one  struc- 
ture meritinjj;  tiic  name  of  house.  This  was  in- 
liahited  hy  Don  I'edro  (J.,  the  representative  (jf 
the  district,  just  elected  for  a  two  years'  term. 
It  was  easy  to  persuade  ourselves,  in  reply  to  his 
kind  invitation,  that  we  were  rather  ccoifenirig 
tlian  receiving  a  I'avor  in  hecoiniiiL*  his  i.iu].«tcs. 
Don  Pedro  was  a  cultivated  fvjiow  ;  i;;d.  while 
our  dinner  was  preparing,  we  fell  iutrj  a  lit^-rary 
chat,  lie  read  ine  some  verseA  from  n  !>og<  ta 
newspaper  dedicated  to  a  young  ludy  w!n>  hud 
been  his  particular  star  at  a  pii.'nic  to  tb>'-  Fulis  ef 
Tequendama. 

Presently  dinner  was  annor'.ucCii  l»y  a  girl 
bringing  a  small  silver  basin,  and  a  ihii;  lineu 
towel,  embroidei'cd  at  the  amh  wlih  guy  (lowers 
and  birds.  Each  guest  performeu  hiti  jiiglit  ab- 
lutions. 

The  bouse  consisted  of  one  largo  room,  pavcMJ 
with  tiles,  rough  and  unfurnishod.  Several  small 
sleeping-apartments  opened  i;il>  it, f^rid  t?io  l.ilch- 
en  and  pig-yard  were  contiguov.s.  Tl»e  iad-es  of 
the  family  did  not  appoj.r.  Oocru-ionally,  how- 
ever, we  had  a  gli'^jjiso  of  a  slender  form,  limply 
undressed,  vjid  a  dark,  iaipa.ssivo  face,  *'  luclau- 


K     i 


.     ; 


4 


f 

a 


f 


I 


ft  ■  I 


848 


ISTHMIANA. 


choly  and  mild-eyed."  The  calm  indifTerence 
and  resignation  of  all  these  people  is  more  than 
Mahometan.  Time  is  of  no  value  ;  life  seems  of 
none.  Their  answer  to  a  question  is  Quien  sabe, 
to  a  request,  Poco  tiempo.  But  no  doubt  our  ac- 
tivity and  interest  seem  quite  as  unnatural  to 
them.     Which  is  right  ? 

They  may  be  dilatory  and  indiflferent,  but  the 
dinner,  when  it  came  at  last,  was  artistic.  Happy 
is  the  man  whose  nature  or  cosmopolitan  habits 
have  made  iu;**  omnivorous  and  unquestioning. 

Our  dinner  commenced  with  a  thick  rice  soup, 
very  nice.  Then  sancoche,  a  stew  of  beef,  chick- 
en, yam,  plantain,  and  rice,  with  Chili  peppers, 
strips  of  tasajo  or  jerked  beef  fried,  a  dish  of 
boiled  vermicelli,  omelet  with  chopped  pork, 
boiled  ground  maize  finer  than  our  hominy, 
fried  and  roasted  plantain,  thick  tortilla,  cheese, 
sweetmeats,  and  a  sort  of  maize  pudding  called 
tamal.  Bordeaux  wine  was  upon  the  table,  and 
the  dinner  ended  with  coffee.  Our  breakfast  was 
nearly  tlie  same,  except  that  we  had  chocolate  in- 
stead of  coffee.  Everything  was  offered  with 
quiet  hospitality  and  freedom.  Dimora  F.  en  su 
casn. 

My  English  friend  picked  up  a  nag  in  the 
course  of  the  day,  for  which,  under  the  pressure 
of  need,  he  paid  Ibrty-five  dollars,  —  and,  as  lie 
liad  bi'ought  a  saddle,  was  henceforth  indepeu- 


1    s- 


W 


GRANADA   HOSPITALITY. 


349 


idifference 
more  than 
seems  of 
iiien  sabe, 
ibt  our  ac- 
[latural  to 

it,  but  the 
ic.    Happy 
itan  habits 
estioning. 
:  rice  soup, 
beef,  chick- 
ili  peppers, 
,  a  dish  of 
)ped    pork, 
ir  hominy, 
ilia,  cheese, 
ding  called 
table,  and 
eakfast  was 
locolate  in- 
ffered  with 
)ra  F.  en  su 

nag  in  the 
\e  pressure 
and,  as  he 

th  indepen- 


dent. It  was  not  till  noon  of  the  next  day  that  we 
others  succeeded,  by  the  kind  aid  of  Don  Pedro, 
in  hiring  "  bestias."  But  I  had  no  saddle,  and  our 
host  could  not  let  me  depart  without  a  complete 
outfit.  He  rummaged  among  his  stores,  and  pro- 
duced a  Galapago,  or  dilapidated  English  saddle. 
Nothing  had  sat  upon  it  lately  but  birds,  and  it 
looked  like  one  of  the  Ghincha  Islands.  A  girth 
was  soon  manufactured  of  ropes'  ends.  A  neigh- 
bor supplied  stirrup-leathers  and  a  crupper  for 
three  dimes.  We  disinterred  from  a  lieap  of  rub- 
bish a  monstrous  pair  of  wooden  Costa  Rica  stir- 
rups, clumsy  as  sabots.  Shabby  as  the  whole 
turnout  seemed,  it  not  only  served  me  admira- 
bly, but  I  sold  it  at  the  end  of  the  journey  for 
four  dollars,  which  I  hereby  promise  to  pay  over 
to  Don  Pedro,  in  champagne  or  other  liquid,  when 
he  comes  to  see  me.  The  half  is  more  than 
the  whole.  A  saddle  is  sometimes  more  than  a 
horse,  and  in  South  America,  as  well  as  among 
tlie  North  American  Indians,  will  sometimes  buy 
two.  Fortified  by  a  letter  of  introduction  to 
another  great  proprietor  at  Santa  Maria,  four 
leagues  distant,  we  started  about  noon. 

We  rode  again  over  green  savannas,  sprinkled 
with  noble,  broad-spreading  trees,  and  with  fresh, 
verdant  circles  hedged  in  a  belt  of  shrubs,  and 
protected  without  against  all  intrusion  by  a  belt 
df  the  prickly  pimula,  outlying  the  island  like  a 


350 


ISTHMIANA. 


I 


1 


•'4 

J 


«« 


[ 


El 
C  • 

'I 


coral  reef.  Wild  turkeys  whizzed  away  before  us ; 
deer  bounded  away,  as  I  have  seen  them,  on  the 
prairies  of  Illinois,  fly  startled  from  the  whistle 
and  roar  of  the  intrusive  train. 

But  this  was  too  bright  to  last.  The  rainy  sea- 
son was  not  over.  You  have  been  under  the 
sheet  at  Niagara  ?  Yes.  Then  you  have  had  a 
momentary  impression  of  a  rain  in  the  tropics. 
My  shoulders  were  protected  by  a  mackintosh, 
but  my  straw  hats,  —  I  wore  two,  one  above  the 
other,  not  in  Rafael  Mendoza's  style,  but  on  ac- 
count of  the  heat,  —  my  hats  were  pervious,  and 
the  drops  trickled  by  the  way  of  my  spine  into  my 
boots.  As  we  proceeded,  we  found  dry  ravines 
becoming  water-courses,  presently  torrents,  until 
at  last  we  were  obliged  to  wait  at  one  swollen 
stream  dum  dejluat  amnis.  The  rain  ceased, 
and  tlie  brook  fell  visibly,  as  it  b  id  risen,  and  we 
phmged  througli.  Here  a  highly  respectable  old 
citizen,  Don  Ramon  G.,  overtook  us,  and  impart- 
ed life  even  to  our  apatlietic  Mexican  compan- 
ions by  informing  us  that  unless  we  despatched 
we  should  find  the  river  Costal  impassable.  So  it 
was  hurry-scurry  tiu'ough  the  mud.  But  it  was 
too  late  ;  tlie  Costal  was  up.  We  were  beginning 
to  think  of  a  camp  in  the  mud  and  water,  when 
Don  Ramon's  servant,  who  had  been  prowling 
about,  discovered  the  semblance  of  a  canoe  across 
the  stream.     He  denuded  himself  and  horse,  and 


GKANADA   HOSPITALITY. 


351 


plunged  in.  We  meantime  waded  to  an  island, 
around  a  noble  tree,  and  under  its  imperfect  shel- 
ter we  unpacked  our  pulpy  luggage.  Wet  is  tho 
most  disheartening  thing  to  a  traveller ;  —  to  come 
into  camp  at  night  chilly  r.i:d  cramped  ;  to  spend 
a  fruitless  hour  in  trying  ^o  kindle  spongy  wood 
with  flashes  of  wet  powder ;  to  try  to  relish  a  bit 
of  damp  biscuit  with  raw  pork ;  to  be  def)rived 
even  of  the  consolation  of  a  pipe ;  and  at  last  to 
spread  your  wet  blankets  on  the  wet  ground,  and, 
yourself  wet,  to  creep  between  them.  However, 
sleep  comes  even  thus,  and  though  it  is  disagree- 
able to  wake  by  a  louder  blast  and  more  pelting 
shower,  and  find  that  your  weight  has  made  a 
depression  in  the  ground,  and  this  depression  has 
become  a  [>ond,  still  dawn  comes,  and  you  wake 
to  the  consciousness  of  misery.  Stiff  though  you 
be,  cold  and  breakfastloss,  you  must  rouse,  and, 
painfully  packing  and  saddling,  pursue  your  dis- 
consolate way.  But  the  road  is  reviving,  the  sun 
appears,  you  are  warmed  and  cheered  ;  and  when 
the  nooning  time  comes,  with  a  bright  clear  sky  and 
a  good  fire,  and  your  traps  spread  out  to  dry,  you 
forget  tlie  past  discomforts.  Though  I  have  many 
times  known  nights  such  as  1  have  descril)ed, 
fortunately  on  this  occasion  nothing  of  the  kind 
was  in  prospect.  AVe  were  wet,  to  be  sure,  and 
shivering,  with  the  thermometer  at  seventy-five 
degrees;  hut  our  lively  little  ho rties  would  soon 


352 


ISTHMIANA. 


f 


1 1 

h 


gallop  over  the  savanna  to  our  resting-place,  and 
the  sun  was  scattering  the  thick  clouds  and  throw- 
ing broad  beams  of  glittering  light  across  the  plain. 
As  we  stood  waiting  on  the  bank,  a  noble  drove 
of  the  half-wild  cattle  of  the  country  came  by  at 
full  speed,  the  half-naked  drovers  shouting  and 
plunging  in  among  them.  They  came  galloping 
down  to  the  bank,  tossing  their  heads  in  the  air. 
One  moment  there  was  a  tumultuous  mass  of 
picturesque  catoie,  the  ne  t  only  some  tossing 
heads  were  seen  scattered  in  the  water.  With 
one  grand  conwulsion,  as  Mr.  Weller  would  say, 
they  struggled  up  and  out  upc"  the  opposite 
bank,  and  then,  with  a  snort  and  a  shake,  they 
scampered  like  a  tempest  away  through  tlie  rain- 
dripping  glade  behind  us,  the  air  resounding  with 
the  curses  of  their  drivers. 

Meantime  our  goods  had  been  ferried  and  our 
horses  swum  across.  Everything  was  in  a  pulp ; 
but  when  you  are  once  thoroughly  in  for  any- 
thing, whether  it  be  issuing  spurious  stock  or  a 
wetting,  you  are  certain  that  things  cannot  be 
worse.  Don  Ramon  asked  us  to  make  them 
better  by  a  little  agtia  diente  at  his  house,  only  a 
mile  or  so  out  of  the  way.  Leaving  the  woods 
upon  the  river  we  issued  upon  a  vast  savanna, 
stretching  unbroken,  save  by  a  few  exquisite 
islands  of  thick  groves,  far  to  the  central  sierra 
of  the  Isthmus.     The  jagged  summits  cut  sharp 


GRANADA  HOSPITALITY. 


853 


against  tLe  brilliant  sky  of  sunset.  Over  a  few 
of  the  highest,  white  mists  floated,  snow-like. 
At  once  there  came  to  my  mind  a  sense  of  famil- 
iarity with  the  landscape.  Where  had  I  known 
this  boundless  spread  of  meadow,  where  those 
clearly  defined  snow-ridges,  cold  before  the  last 
glow  of  twilight  ?  It  was  tlie  plain  of  Lombardy, 
and  my  fog-capped  mountains  were  the  Alps. 

Don  Ramon  was  the  owner  of  countless  thou- 
sands of  cattle,  and  they  were  selling  in  Panama, 
not  one  hundred  miles  off,  for  forty  dollars  per 
head ;  but  nevertheless  the  residence  of  Don 
Ramon  was  little  better  than  a  shed,  and  the 
liquor  which  he  called  by  courtesy  Cognac  was 
very  un  toothsome  dfrua  diente.  Still  it  was 
spirit,  and  infused  itself  into  us,  tingling  through 
our  chilled  veins,  and  giving  us  an  impulse  for 
our  night  ride  to  Santa  Maria.  The  prairie  would 
have  been  a  glorious  gallop  when  dry,  but  now 
we  plunged  wearily  through  the  mud  and  water, 
and  strayed  about  among  the  devious  cattle- 
paths.  Beating  and  spurring  my  tired  horse, 
and  somewhat  bored,  though  calmed,  by  the  dim 
evening,  now  become  dark  night,  and  by  the 
solemn  grandeur  of  the  deep  blue  mountains 
against  the  sparkling  violet  of  the  sky,  I  was  by 
no  means  displeased  when  the  flashes  of  myriad 
fire-flies  gave  place  to  the  steady  gleam  of  the 
village  lights. 


w 


854 


ISTHMIANA. 


I 

•1 

«"■ 
•,* 


Don  Marco  received  our  letter,  and,  with  nc 
great  empressement,  I  thought,  gave  us  shelter. 
Perhaps  I  misjudged  him ;  the  manners  of  the 
people  are  apathetic,  and  he  profited  enou^  i 
by  our  visit  to  have  felt  a  thrill  of  joy  at  our 
approach.  We  were  soon  refreshed  by  hot 
coffee  and  dry  clothes,  and  provided  with  ham- 
mocks and  cots.  Then  Don  Marco  and  our 
Spanish  companion  talked  droningly  till  we  were 
lulled  asleep. 

A  BESTIA. 

I  was  informed,  on  credible  authority,  that 
Don  Marco  had  forty  thousand  dollars  in  silver 
buried  about  his  house.  His  possessions  in  cat- 
tle straying  over  the  unclaimed  prairies  were 
enormous.  He  had  three  or  four  melancholy 
young  sons,  whom  he  intended  sending  to  the 
United  States  to  be  educated.  He  asked  my 
advice  on  the  subject.  I  gave  him  the  best.  1 
wish  I  had  given  him  the  worst,  —  the  old  vil- 
lain. He  thought  he  had  discovered  a  coal- 
mine. I  hope  he  spent  all  his  money,  and  found 
his  coal  black  stone  ;  —  for  he  sold  me  a  horse. 

He  had  promised  to  supply  us  with  horses, 
and  we  had  a  most  plentiful  breakfast,  in  which 
a  banana  omelet  figured  nobly.  Presently  ar- 
rived  our  friend   Don  Ramon,  with   a  servant 


A  BESTIA. 


355 


carrying  two  big  bags  of  plata  ($  2,500),  which 
he  was  to  pay  to  Don  Marco  for  cattle.  The 
sum  was  mostly  in  francs  and  half-francs. 
They  were  fresh  and  bright  from  the  mint,  the 
first  issue  of  Napoleon  III.  As  the  half-franc  is 
current  in  the  country  for  the  real,  or  eighth  of  a 
dollar,  our  shilling,  it  has  been  profitable  to  cer- 
tain parties  to  import  them  largely  into  the 
country,  a  dodge  well  understood  by  omnibus 
drivers,  and  on  the  Staten  Island  ferries.  Don 
Marco  and  his  major-domo  seated  themselves  at 
opposite  ends  of  a  long  table,  and,  piling  up  the 
sum  in  the  middle,  began  to  count  in  by  four 
pieces  into  calabashes. 

A  sound  of  galloping  announced  the  arrival  of 
our  horses,  —  two  for  hire  to  the  next  stage  and 
one  for  sale.  And  I  was  to  buy  him.  Shade  of 
Bucephalus !  what  a  charger  !  He  had  been, 
said  our  host,  the  favorite  horse  of  his  wife,  but 
had  now  been  turned  out  for  a  year.  If  so,  I  do 
not  wonder  that  she  looked  worn  and  melan- 
clioly.  The  animal  was  a  small,  crisp,  wiry  stal- 
lion of  a  vicious  yellow-dun  color.  He  looked 
like  an  ill-bred  bull- terrier  exaggerated  into  a 
horse.  His  mane  and  tail  were  matted  with 
briers.  He  was  hung  with  garrapatas  ;  at  every 
attempt  to  eradicate  these,  he  snorted  and  jerked 
wildly  at  the  hakima  or  hair-rope  which  fastened 
him.     His  appearance  was  unprepossessing  in  tlio 


856 


ISTHMIANA. 


extreme  ;  but  ne  was  the  only  thing  to  be  had, 
and  he  looked  yicious  enough  to  be  hardy  and 
enduring.  0  Don  Marco,  who  took  advantage  of 
the  necessities  of  a  traveller  to  sell  liim  a  most 
villanous  beast,  may  your  spirit  expiate  its  crime 
in  the  world  to  come  by  riding  saddlelcss  and 
bridloless  battered  upon  that  beast  to  whom  early 
in  our  acquaintance  I  applied  the  name  of  Bungo  I 
Then,  Don  Marco,  thumped  upon  his  back-bones 
when  ho  pounds  you  in  his  trot,  and  bounced,  as 
a  pilot-boat  bounces  from  crest  to  crest  of  waves 
in  a  chopping  sea,  from  tail  to  ears  of  his  skele- 
ton as  he  gallops,  may  you  shuffle,  stumble,  tum- 
ble along  to  that  limbo  of  unrepentant  thieves, 
which,  if  there  be  any  faith  in  religion,  awaits  you 
to  all  eternity.  Yet  more,  —  may  your  sons  be 
sent  to  the  United  States ;  may  they  learn  every- 
thing that  young  Spaniards  generally  learn  ;  may 
they  go  home,  and  in  your  lifetime  dissipate 
your  hidden  bags  of  plata ;  and  may  they  be 
domineered  in  future  by  my  progeny,  inevitable 
Yankees.  Hector  Hippodaraos,  hear  my  prayer ! 
We  left  Don  Marco  with  a  calm  sense  that 
we  had  been  villanously  cheated,  for  we  had 
paid  enornaously  for  our  fare.  But  I,  mounted 
upon  Bungo,  was  too  much  occupied  to  express 
my  sentiments  of  affectionate  adieu.  Bungo  did 
not  wish  to  leave  his  native  groves  and  fields; 
I  persuaded  him,  first  gently,  witli   suggestive 


m 


A  BESTIA. 


857 


words  aud  shaking  of  tho  bridle,  then  more  de- 
cidedly witli  whip  taps,  and  at  last  with  repeated 
lunges  of  my  cruel  spurs.  When  he  concluded 
to  go  it  witli  a  sudden  impulse,  he  did  not,  how- 
ever, succeed  in  leaving  me  at  that  time.  I 
fouglit  him  for  five  miles,  and  had  him  tamed,  as 
I  thought;  but  suddenly  tliere  came  up  a  shower; 
I  pulled  out  my  mackintosh,  and,  letting  go  Uvi 
bridle  for  an  histant,  essayed  to  pass  it  over 
my  head.  When  I  picked  myself  up  from  tho 
mud,  Bungo  was  half  a  mile  on  his  way  home. 
Jos^  followed  him  at  full  speed,  whirliug  his 
lasso,  and  1  was  soon   remounted. 

Wo  passed  an  immense  enclosure  of  green 
meadow,  fenced  in  by  a  hedge  of  prickly  wild 
pine-apple.  It  must  have  contained  at  least  a 
half-section.  Picturesquely  grouped  over  its 
graceful  undulations,  or  straying  wild  over  the 
surface,  were  hundreds  of  horses,  the  late  com- 
panions of  my  steed.  Here,  as  wo  passed  through 
the  copses,  we  found  numbers  of  caoutchouc- 
trees,  with  their  bright  laurel-like  leaves  and 
drops  of  milk-white  sap  exuding  from  chance- 
broken  twigs.  They  formerly  exported  much 
india-rubber  from  this  neighborhood,  but  it  was 
found  that,  selling  the  stuff  by  weight,  they  forgot 
to  take  out  the  stones  they  had  used  for  a  nucleus. 

Toward  evening,  riding  hard  and  steadily,  we 
emerged  upon  a  vast  plain.     Before  us  it  swept 


858 


ISTHMIANA. 


far  away  toward  the  horizon  ;  the  eye  was  lost  in 
its  reach,  and  in  the  imagination  of  a  boundloiJs 
stretch  beyond  the  horizon.  Tiiis  lake  of  ver- 
dure, only  occasionally  rippled  by  the  breeze 
tliat  chased  the  declining  sun,  flowed  smootlily 
up  to  the  base  of  the  mountains,  the  main  ridge 
of  the  Istlnnus.  One  mass  of  jagged  peaks 
marked  itself  sharply  against  the  sky,  its  glens 
and  dells  vibrating  in  a  cobalt  atmosphere,  as 
the  heat  of  the  day  seemed  to  quiver  forth. 
This  Sierra  of  011a  is  a  landmark  for  a  great 
distance  ;  but  upon  the  plain  was  an  isolated 
conical  hill  stretching  two  long  arms  away  from 
the  parent  range,  and  enclosing  an  exquisite  bay 
of  meadow.  Everywhere  numberless  herds  of 
cattle  were  grazing,  scattered  occasionally  by  a 
dashing  horseman,  who  emerged  from  the  mass 
dragging  a  bullock  by  his  lasso  skilfully  at- 
tached to  the  horns.  To  the  eastward  the  plain 
spread  level  to  the  sea,  and  sometimes  the  eye 
caught  a  bright  gleam,  as  some  adventurous 
wave  sparkled  upward  to  catch  a  last  smile  from 
the  setting  sun.  We  galloped  twelve  miles  over 
this  level  Llano  of  Pocri,  and  at  sunset  reached 
Pocri,  a  pastoral  village. 

We  dismounted  at  the  house  of  N.'s  friend. 
He  was  off  shooting  pigeons.  In  front,  a  girl  was 
occupied  in  strewing  corn  in  a  circle,  like  a  fairy 
ring,  of  thirty  feet  in  diameter.     Some  religious 


A  UKoTIA. 


35J» 


ceremony,  I  thoiiglit,  and  quite  in  accordance 
with  the  primitive  and  charming  simplicity  of 
this  patriarchal  life.  Presently  she  stopped  aside, 
and  opened  the  gate  of  a  small  enclosure.  Then 
the  pigs,  not  in  a  greedy  tumult,  as  Americans 
at  a  hotel,  but  with  the  calm  confidence  of  a 
man  who  goes  to  his  own  well-appointed  tai)le, 
at  his  own  house,  came  forth  and  ranged  them- 
selves about  this  magic  circle.  A  verdant  sward 
was  spread  over  their  table.  They  were  chatty 
over  their  banquet,  and  occasionally  some  sally  of 
one  of  them  would  rouse  a  unanimous  murnuir. 
I  inferred  contentment  and  general  development 
of  the  finer  social  qualities  by  the  remarks  they 
made,  which  were  quite  as  intelligible  as  the 
ordinary  conversation  of  similar  select  circles. 
It  is  worthy  of  notice  that  the  only  meat  served 
up  was  pork,  but  in  the  varied  forms  of  ham, 
sho.lder,  side,  cheek,  head,  toes,  spare-ribs;  in 
fact,  they  went  the  entire  animal.  It  was  a 
scene  for  a  Hogarth. 

Our  friend  arrived  with  a  string  of  pigeons  and 
a  small  deer  over  his  shoulder  ;  he  had  also  seen 
and  shot  at  a  tiger-cat.  We  made  a  jolly  supper 
and  evening  of  it,  and  concocted,  as  appropriate 
to  the  meridian,  a  wonderful  salad,  a  salad  worthy 
of  Sancho  Panza ;  then  we  strung  our  hammocks 
here  and  there,  and  slept  deliciously  in  the  cool 
atmosphere  of  this  subalpine  locale. 


860 


ISTIIMIANA. 


I 


I 
(    I 


Wo  mado  but  a  short  ride  next  day  to  Nat^, 
passing  along  tho  wooded  edge  of  the  same  mag- 
nificent Llano.  The  cattle  were  very  fme,  gen- 
erally of  a  delicate  mouse-color,  like  those  of  tiie 
South  of  Europe.  One  noble  bull  occupied  in 
imperial  solitude  a  beautiful  glade  of  the  forest, 
his  fitting  palace.  The  woods  were  alive  and 
resplendent  with  macaws,  parrots,  paroquets, 
doves,  changamds,  and  multitudes  of  unknown 
but  beautiful  birds  ;  in  an  opening  in  the  woods 
we  found  a  council  of  turkey-buzzards  surround- 
ing in  black  deliberation  their  richly  attired  sov- 
ereign, el  Cacique  de  los  Gallinazos^  and  I  had 
my  first  glimpse  of  tho  ocellated  turkey,  the  pea- 
cock of  turkeys.  All  that  ride  I  fought  reso- 
lutely with  Bungo. 

Nat^  was  quite  a  village.  The  bells  of  its 
church  were  hung  in  a  tower,  and  regularly  rung 
with  ropes,  instead  of  being  placed  on  a  frame 
and  tapped  with  a  stone  by  the  bare-legged  sac- 
ristan. The  priest  was  a  "  brick,"  a  very  jolly 
ecclesiastic  of  the  hedge  order.  He  had  tried 
marriage,  then  military  life,  and  preferred  his 
present  state  in  the  Church  triumphant  witli 
good  reason.  He  was  very  sorry  tliat  we  were 
not  Christians,  but  Protestants,  and  asked  if  the 
priests  among  us  were  in  his  style.  He  and  quite 
a  party  were  to  go  next  day,  the  feast  of  the 
Annunciation,  to  Penonomd,  whitlicr  we  were 
also  travelling. 


THE   PILGRIMS. 


3G1 


r  we  were 


THE    PILGRIMS. 

As  usual,  our  horses  were  late  next  mornitig, 
and  the  priest  was  off  an  hour  before  us.  liut 
our  host  of  Natk,  Josd  Maria  del  Carmen  Lopez, 
volunteered  to  guide  us  on  our  way ;  and  when 
he  was  onco  on  his  prancing  horse,  out  of  sight 
of  his  wife,  he  determined  very  s[)eedily  to  go 
himself  to  the  great  funcion  at  Penonomd.  Wo 
had  galloped  an  hour  without  overtaking  tlio 
Padre,  when,  distant  as  far  as  the  eye  could  reach 
on  the  plain,  wo  saw  wliat  seemed  a  moving 
mushroom ;  it  was  perfectly  black  and  most  imi>- 
ish  in  its  ap{)carance.  Tliis  black  pent-house 
was  supported  by  a  slender  light-colored  stalk 
endowed  with  powers  of  rapid  locomotion,  for  it 
succeeded  in  keeping  pace  with  a  figure  which 
we  should  have  thought  a  man  on  horseback  had 
it  not  been  provided  with  a  pair  of  wings  flap- 
ping freely  on  the  air.  It  was  a  couple  of  miles 
before  we  overtook  these  strange  figures,  and  only 
deciphered  them  then  by  keen  inspection  ;  tho 
figure  on  horseback  was  the  old  sacristan,  who, 
out  of  sight  of  his  master,  had  decorated  his  own 
person  with  tho  priestly  vestments.  The  ani- 
mated mushroom  was  his  son,  a  boy  of  ten  years, 
trotting  along  with  no  clothes  on  whatever  ex- 
cept tlie  immense  shovel  hat  of  our  friend  tho 
l*adre,  laid  aside  for  a  more  convenient  travelling 

16 


362 


ISTHMIANA. 


affair.  PaJre  Grimaldo,  as  he  was  appropriately 
named,  had  ridden  on  to  a  farm-house  for  some 
refreshment,  and  there  we  found  him  in  his  glory 
(i.  e.  glorious).  Here  ho  had  joined  other  scat- 
tered parties  proceeding  to  the  revels,  and,  pro- 
vided with  bowls  of  chicha,  they  were  taking  a 
luncheon  of  queso  can  dulce^  the  cheese  being 
a  kind  soft  and  nice,  like  froma^e  de  Brie,  and 
the  dulce  like  boft  molasses  candy.  We,  Los 
Sefiores  Ingleses,  were  the  lions  of  tlie  occasion, 
and  added  even  to  the  greatness  of  Padre  Gri- 
maldo. A  guitai'ist  and  violinist,  with  their  in- 
struments slung  at  their  backs,  had  joined  tlie 
party  and  gave  earnest  of  future  jollity.  And  a 
jolly  cavalcade  it  was  of  some  twenty,  scamper- 
ing at  full  speed  o  er  the  smooth  plain,  making 
wide  detours  to  every  hacienda  for  a  fresh  orange 
or  another  bowl  of  chicha.  Wo  kept  up  a  com- 
plete row,  especially  when  some  pelting  shower 
forced  a  general  stampede  for  the  nearest  shelter, 
or  when,  fording  some  of  the  numerous  streams 
that  crossed  our  path,  friend  Poco-tempe,  on  his 
little  gray  nag,  would  be  nearly  submerged. 
Great  shouting  there  was  for  candela,  and  many 
witching  cxliibitions  of  horsemanship  on  the  part 
of  Josd  del  Carmen.  Some  Senoritas  joined  us, 
and  only  heightened  the  life  of  the  scene.  Tlicre 
was  a  full  abandon  of  gayety,  inconceivable  to  tho 
grave  Yankee.    We  approached  nearer  the  main 


I  . 


m 


y 


THE   PILGRIMS. 


36a 


chain  of  mountains,  and,  ascending  a  low  plateau, 
rode  in  a  body  tranij^ling  up  the  main  street  of 
Penonome,  and  dibuiounted  at  the  church  in  tho 
Phiza. 

Tijings  are  managed  with  such  perfect  cahn- 
ness  of  manner  l)y  tlie  pc(»i)le  of  tiie  country,  that 
an  American  supposes  nothing  is  doing  ;  hut  in 
a  surprisingly  short  time  we  were  inducted  into 
one  of  the  he>t  houses  in  tlie  town,  which,  hy  good 
luck,  happened  to  ho  vticant,  a  cook  hired,  our 
iiannnocks  slung,  and  everyiiiiug  made  coniiort- 
ahle  for  a  sojourn.  We  dined  with  the  Padre, 
and  then  walked  with  him  ahout  the  place,  envi- 
ously standing  hy  while  he  was  tendei  ly  emhraced 
by  all  the  |)retty  giils  in  the  village.  However, 
'*  any  friend  of  the  Padre  "  was  sure  to  meet 
with  a  good  reception,  and  we  had  no  reason  to 
complain.  The  Padre  sat  among  his  rcimis  a 
picture  of  ecclesiastical  content,  l»estowing  ki^ses 
sporadically  with  a  patriandnil  simplicity  truly 
cltarming.  A  tapping  of  stones  upon  ihe  In  lis 
proclaimed  the  time  for  evening  service,  and  ho 
was  compelled  to  perform  other  duties,  |)erhaj»s 
less  agreeable.  We  accompanied  a  detachment 
(»r  the  young  ladies  to  church.  It  was  a  plain 
vtone  structure,  like  all  those  of  the  country,  with 
;i  wooden  roof,  rudely  ornamentcid  with  painted 
panel-work,  and  supported  by  tall,  slender,  wood- 
en coluiuiiH,  tlie  altar  ornamented  with  tawdr/ 


N^ 


864 


ISTUMIANA. 


gilding  and  tinsel,  and  the  choir  at  the  other  end 
in  a  gallery  not  unlike  the  sentry-hoxes  at  Black- 
weirs  Island.  It  was  crowded  with  kneeling 
worshippers ;  and  as  the  Padro,  in  a  slightly  crap- 
ulous voice,  intoned  the  service,  the  responses 
rose  with  a  solemn  murmur.  The  feeble  light 
of  a  few  lamps  fell  most  picturesquely  upon  the 
white-veiled  and  white-robed  figures  of  the  women 
kneeling,  and  crouching  on  the  floor  back  of 
them  was  a  circle  of  men,  also  all  in  white.  Tiio 
clfect  was  most  striking.  Sometimes  the  music 
of  the  choir,  generally  harsh  and  squeaking,  gave 
place  to  the  wild  and  strange  melody  of  the 
droning  chants  of  the  country. 


THE    FUNCION. 

Penonomd,  from  its  situation  near  the  moun- 
tains, is  recognized  as  head-quarters  by  the  In- 
dians of  the  interior,  who,  though  retaining  their 
own  independent  life,  and  inhabiting  their  own 
pueblos^  come  down  once  or  twice  a  year,  on  the 
great  festive  occasions  of  the  Church,  to  confess 
and  pay  their  nominal  taxes.  Their  alcaldes  are 
appointed  by  the  government,  and  the  priests 
retain  some  power  over  their  superstitions  ;  but 
besides  this  they  seem  to  have  little  connection 
with  their  Spanish  neighbors,  except  in  the  barttu' 
of  their  productions  for  goods.     Manchester  hoii 


THE   FUNCION. 


365 


penetrated  even  here,  and  all  the  native  cotton 
fabrics  are  reproduced  so  faithfully  Ly  English 
operatives,  and  are  so  much  cheaper,  that  the 
domestic  manufactures  have  nearly  ceased.  The 
shawls  (^rcbosos)  of  the  women,  of  a  peculiar  and 
not  unj^raceful  pattern,  are  nsed  for  veils,  as  well 
as  mantilhiH.  Those  Indians  have  short,  dumpy, 
but  athletic  figures,  and  clear,  dark  complexions, 
\{irY  black,  straight  hair,  shav<;d  .,hort  behind  and 
on  the  top  of  the  head,  hanging  in  lung  elf-locks 
at  the  side,  with  a  narrow  coronet,  or  stilf  wig, 
above  the  forehead.  Tneir  heads  are  \'o.vy  long 
and  narrow  ;  so  much  so,  that  I  found  it  impos- 
silde  to  fit  myself  with  a  straw  hat  nmong  the 
assortments  of  native  manufacture  thoy  had 
brought  to  the  fete.  The  women,  like  the  men, 
are  short  and  stout,  none  handsome,  but  with 
good,  trusty  faces.  In  the  morning  the  alcaldes 
of  all  the  villages  appeared,  marching  down  to 
pay  their  taxes,  and  be  blessed  by  Padre  Gri- 
maldo.  Much  good,  no  doubt,  tiie  latter  did 
them.  These  respectable  functionaries  were 
dressed  for  the  occasion  in  their  diplomatic 
costume,  fossil  British  navy-coats,  with  skirts 
worse  than  those  we  are  now  wearing,  decorated 
with  an  occasional  button,  old  American  militia 
uniforms,  caricatures  originally,  as  they  all  are, 
and  one  richly  embroidered  garment,  once  the 
prido  of  some  French  savant  when  he  appeared 


^' 


366 


ISTHMUNA. 


I! 
li 

ii 

J' 

•I 


as  Membre  de  Vlnsiitut,  A  few  of  them  had 
hats  as  outlandish  as  their  costume,  and  with 
several  the  most  essential  part  of  a  full-dress 
toilet  had  been  altogetlier  omitted,  and  they 
were  sans  culottes.  They  were  preced^^d  and 
followed  by  a  couple  of  bare-legged  uidividuals, 
bearing  each  a  long,  slender  ebony  wand,  acting 
as  ushers  of  the  black  rod. 

Our  day  passed  pleasantly  enough.  When 
you  have  nothing  else  to  do  in  the  tropics,  you 
can  always  eat  an  orange ;  but  we  were  not 
reduced  to  this  of  necessity.  The  nearness  of 
the  serrated  mountains,  with  their  supporting 
ridges  sloping  off  to  the  plain,  gave  a  grandeur 
to  the  view.  We  lounged  about  the  village, 
chatted  with  the  young  ladies,  laughed  at  their 
beaux,  who  were  rigged  out  in  antiquated  black 
suits,  and  with  queer  hats,  visited  the  perpetual 
fandangos,  where  a  strumming  was  kept  up  va- 
ried by  an  occasional  bit  of  doggerel  vei*se  in  the 
time  of  the  melody.  Our  approach  was  a  sig- 
nal for  a  fresh  burst  of  an  improvisation  such  as 
this :  "  Here  come  two  noble  English  gents.  Rat- 
a-tat  rat-arbump  slam  bang  bumpo.  They  have 
their  pockets  full  of  pence.  Rat^a-tit-a-tit  cling 
clang  thumpo.  They  '11  giv3  us  some,  and  we  '11 
bo  richer,  enough  to  buy  five  bowls  of  chicha. 
Viva,  viva  los  Sefiores  Ingleses,  clink-arclink 
rat-artat  thump-a-dido."    Tlio  groat  lion  of  the 


THE  FUNCION. 


8G7 


festivity  was  the  exhibition  of  fire-works  that 
evening.  Our  house  was  most  conven  mtly 
placed  for  seeing.  They  were  ushered  by  an 
insane  rattling  of  drums  and  bells,  and  number- 
less volunteered  fetix-de-Joie  on  the  part  of  the 
boys.  The  display  of  rockets,  candles,  serpents, 
<fec.  was  as  much  as  one  of  our  Fourth  of  July 
affairs  would  have  been.  The  finale  was  re- 
ligious and  grand  ;  from  the  trefoil  window  of 
the  church,  supposed  to  represent  Noah's  ark,  a 
fiery  dove  issued,  and,  finding  no  rest  for  tlie 
sole  of  its  foot  on  the  wire,  it  ran  along,  it 
returned  to  the  olivrch,  and,  immediately  issu- 
ing with  a  fiery  olive-branch  in  its  mouth,  ran 
forward  on  another  wire  to  a  large  lithograplied 
picture  of  the  Virgin,  surrounded  by  wheels, 
candles,  and  serpents ;  it  lighted  this,  and  the 
whole  went  off  in  a  blaze  of  glory,  and  the 
blessed  Virgin  was  translated  to  the  celestial 
regions  in  a  mantle  of  flame. 

Altogether  I  was  delighted  with  Penonomd 
and  its  funcion.  The  conventional  notions  of 
morals  and  manners  of  the  people  were  different, 
perhaps,  from  my  own.  Their  easy  apathy  in 
delays  and  c'.iflicrtlties  was  an  cxaaipie  in  prac- 
tice of  the  perfect  and  sublime  nonchalance 
necessary  to  the  man  who  will  roll  through  the 
world  teres  atque  rotundas,  gathering  none  of 
the  moss  of  local  prejudice,  nor  fixing  bis  coui> 


308 


ISTUMIANA. 


tenance  into  a  staro  of  gazing  wonderment  at 
new  developments  of  human  vanity,  such  as  he 
has  seen  at  home.  It  is  charming  to  discover, 
from  actual  experience,  that  women  are  fair  and 
women  are  false,  that  men  are  wise  and  men 
are  fools  everywhere ;  that  there  is  just  as  much 
hospitality  in  the  heart  of  a  South  American, 
who  makes  you  free  of  his  hanana-patch,  or  a 
Shoshokie  Indian,  who  offers  you  a  cake  of 
grasshopper  paste,  or  pulls  you  a  handful  of 
hoi  led  salmon  out  of  his  pot,  as  has  your  metro- 
politan friend  at  his  dinner  of  canvas-hacks  and 
Clicquot,  or  his  supper  of  terrapins  and  toddy. 
So  I  regretted  the  departure  from  Penonomd, 
(name  of  melody,)  emhosomed  in  cocoa-palms 
and  visited  by  fresh  breezes  from  the  mountains 
in  the  morning,  and  from  the  sea  in  the  evening. 
I  regretted,  too,  leaving  behind  my  companions, 
who  were  still  to  remain  some  days. 

Mr.  Josd  Dimas,  the  son  of  our  cook,  was 
induced  to  accompany  mo  as  guide.  He  was 
mounted  upon  a  sorry  nag,  a  nag  which  soon 
lay  down  in  the  road.  Josd  had  evidently  been 
prepared  for  some  such  event,  and  had  probably 
only  desired  to  appear  in  the  village  as  a  cabal- 
lero  on  his  travels.  He  very  soon  made  an 
artistic  pack  of  my  traps,  with  tIion^{;s  of  bark, 
and  led  off  at  a  jog-trot,  putting  Bungo  to  his 
mottle,  and  obliging  mo  to  keep  up  an  alternate 


THE  FUNCION. 


369 


battery  of  my  spurs.  We  travelled  for  some 
hours  through  a  thicket  of  small  shrubs,  and  at 
last,  striking  another  lovely  savanna,  saw  afar  a 
fair  island  upon  its  surface,  an  island  of  palms. 
Beneath  their  shade  was  the  little  village  of  An- 
ton, now  almost  deserted  for  the  attractions  of 
the  fete  of  Penonomd.  Deserted  too  by  those 
who  liad  not  shared  in  such  gayoties,  for  tlireo 
persons  had  died  that  day  and  had  been  carried 
out  in  the  common  bier  to  the  common  sepulchre 
at  two  shillings  a  head,  —  less  than  I  paid  for 
my  dinner !  Indigestions  are  very  common,  and 
the  pleurisy,  particularly  at  this  season,  carries 
off  multitudes  of  these  people  of  littlj  vitality. 
While  I  breakfasted  on  some  capital  roasted 
plantains,  some  inky  clouds  came  pouring  down 
from  the  mountains ;  in  a  few  minutes  a  small 
stream  near  the  village  became  a  broad,  deep 
river.  Tlicro  was  no  more  travelling  that  day. 
Among  the  feathery  branches  of  the  cocoanut- 
trees  the  smooth  green  and  brown  nuts  looked 
most  tempting.  It  is  no  easy  thing  to  climb  a 
stalk  as  smooth  as  a  liberty-pole  of  eiglity  feet, 
but  a  young  athlete  of  the  village,  stripping  and 
tying  his  feet  together  <xround  the  trimk,  worked 
himself  up  and  supplied  me  with  occupation  in 
imbibing  milk  and  scraping  the  cream. 

The  night   was  exquisite ;    and   in  the  violet 
dawu  wo  found  the  river  just  passable.      Th<i 

16*  X 


370 


ISTHMIAKA. 


I* 

ii 

M 

I' 
•I 


dry,  ferruginous  soil  of  tho  savannas  had  ab- 
fiorbed  tho  rain  ;  its  effects  wore  only  perceptiblo 
in  the  brilliancy  of  tho  short  grass.  Tliis  savan- 
na of  Ciiirio  we  were  now  travei-sing  is  one  of 
tho  most  celebrated  in  the  country,  and  the  neigh- 
borhood of  tho  mountains  affords  a  refuge  for 
cattle  in  the  dry  season.  Over  the  whole  expanse 
of  the  plain,  cattle  were  grouped  as  buffalo  on 
our  prairies.  Enormous  herds  would  rush  by, 
followed  by  some  wild  horseman  whirling  his 
lasso.  0  tho  glory  of  a  gallop  over  these  plains ! 
Even  Bungo  was  aroused  to  some  degree  of 
spirit.  How  the  soul  of  tho  solitary  traveller 
over  these  boundless  lands  expands,  and  goes 
leaping  over  the  sweeping  undulations !  With 
what  utter  scorn  one  remembers  that  his  view 
was  once  checked  by  brick  walls  built  by  the 
paltry  efforts  of  men  !  Why,  you  might  put  all 
the  cities  la  America  within  the  circuit  of  my 
vision!  • 

We  left  the  savanna  and  turned  off  among 
high,  bare  sand-hills.  A  strange  roaring  had 
been  in  the  air  ;  I  suddenly  turned  sharp  round  a 
high  hill,  and  there  was  the  great  swell  of  tho  blue 
Pacific  bursting  upon  a  glittering  beach  of  sand. 
A  precipitous  range  of  hills  rose  jutting  above  ; 
we  rode  rapidly  along,  for  the  rising  tide  warned 
us  that  the  jutting  bluffs  would  soon  be  impass- 
able.   I  rode  for  three  hours  on  the  smooth, 


THE  FUNCION. 


371 


hard  beach  ;  the  glare  was  terrible.  Never  have 
I  made  the  sea  my  own  so  grandly.  Tlio  high 
shore  range  shut  me  totally  off  from  land  or  the 
thought  of  land.  The  great  crashing  surges 
came  down  eternally  ;  it  was  with  great  difficulty, 
and  some  danger  of  being  swept  away  that  wo 
were  able  to  pass  the  last  projecting  points,  where 
the  surf  was  already  dashing  violently.  Then 
we  turned  off  to  the  little  village  of  San  Carlos, 
to  wait  until  another  fall  of  tide  should  allow  us 
to  pass  the  remainder  of  the  beach  at  niglit. 
Some  large  herds  of  cattle  and  swine  were  al- 
ready encamped  for  the  same  purpose  ;  as  the 
darkness  came  on,  their  herdsmen  surrounded 
them  with  a  circle  of  watch-fires.  The  sunset 
was  grotesquely  splendid  ;  a  great  pink  lizard, 
with  a  short  tail,  was  scon  escapmg  from  a  mon- 
strous vampire,  who  himself  was  chased  by  Mao- 
beth's  witches. 

It  was  almost  midnight  before  we  were  able  to 
pursue  our  way.  The  heavy  surf  was  quieted, 
and  the  broad  sea  lay  motionless  under  the  glow 
of  the  stars.  The  air  palpitated  with  starlight ; 
light  seemed  to  be  reflected,  too,  from  the  sea, 
where  the  images  of  the  stars  were  broadened  by 
the  shifting  surface.  We  soon  overtook  the  cat- 
tle crowded  in  the  narrow  space  between  the 
hills  and  the  searshore,  hurrying  along,  goaded 
by  the  herdsmen ;  as  a  little  larger  wave  would 


872 


ISTIIillANA. 


!1 

•I 


plash  more  heavily  on  tho  sand,  the  \»  hole  black 
mass  would  sway  tumultuously  away  like  a  crowd 
of  men  in  a  panic.  It  was  a  strange,  wild  siglit 
by  tho  dim  light.  The  pigs  were  in  advance  ; 
long  before  we  saw  them  we  could  hear  their 
multitudinous  sound,  mingled  with  tlie  noise  of 
horns  and  tho  shouts  of  their  drivers.  Thoy 
ficuflled  along  in  a  black  phalanx,  as  a  black  mist 
on  the  hill-si«ie.  We  passed  them,  and  were 
soon  in  the  great  night  again. 

Along  the  white  path  of  tho  beach  wo  could 
not  miss  our  way,  but  when  we  reached  the  for- 
est again,  we  must  await  tlie  morning.  I  slung 
my  hammock  under  a  dense  tree,  and,  wrapping 
myself  in  my  poncho,  soon  closed  my  eyes  to  tho 
stars  that  twinkled  through  the  branches.  Apro- 
pos of  sleeping  under  a  tree,  they  tell  a  story  in 
Panama  of  a  man  who  had  committed  a  murder ; 
he  had  escaped  pursuit  and  wandered  away  into 
the  recesses  of  the  forest ;  when  the  heat  of  tlio 
day  came  on,  he  lay  down  under  the  shade.  Here 
the  vengeance  of  God  overtook  him ;  tlio  treo 
was  the  poisonous  manzanilla,  the  upas,  and  he 
was  found  there  a  swollen  and  blackened  corpse. 

I  had  not  long  to  wait  for  the  dawn.  It  re- 
vealed to  me  one  of  the  most  exquisite  spots  I 
have  ever  seen.  My  sheltering  tree  was  in  tho 
middle  of  an  exquisite  glade  sparkling  with  dew. 
High  mountains  enclosed  it  on  all  sides.    To  tlio 


TIIK   FUNCION. 


373 


right  tlio  Cerro  di  Chanic,  whoso  steep  front  had 
terminated  the  heach,  rose  in  a  verdui.t  slope,  its 
side  sprinkled  with  huts  like  Swiss  chalets  ;  on  tlio 
other  hand,  the  main  ridge  of  the  Isthmus  over* 
hung,  wooded  with  immense  trees  up  to  the  foot 
of  a  hold,  towering  crag.  Each  little  cahin  in 
this  lovely  glade  had  its  own  group  of  orange  and 
cocoa-nut  trees,  each  its  own  unenclosed  sj)aco 
of  the  undulating  greensward,  each  its  own 
view  of  the  massive  mountains.  Here  my  jour- 
ney culminated ;  and  when  a  hcautiful  Daphne 
issued  from  one  of  the  houses  to  pluck  her  dewy 
head-dress  of  oleanders  and  her  refined  morning 
repast  uf  oranges,  my  resolution  nearly  gave 
way ;  what  could  civilization  otfer  like  this  ?  On 
these  nohle  plains,  one  pest  of  the  tropics,  the 
insects  that  infest  the  forests,  are  removed. 

Now  commenced  the  real  difficulty  of  the  jour- 
ney. Our  road  was  a  mountain  path  over  a 
succession  of  xocky  ridges,  where  the  rains  had 
washed  away  everything  excej)t  great  boulders, 
over  which  the  unshod  feet  of  Bungo,  accus- 
tomed only  to  a  carpet  of  turf,  were  to  clamber. 
A  broad  path  was  kept  clear  through  the  impen- 
etrable forest.  Wonderful  views  opened,  from 
time  to  time,  over  the  sea  and  the  islands.  This 
was  a  trip  of  fatigue  ;  all  that  was  not  mud  waa 
big  stones.  Jos^  Dimas  plodded  steadily  along, 
travelling  much  more  rapidly  over  the  stones  and 


IMAGE  EVALUATION 
TEST  TARGET  (MT-3) 


// 


^  A. 


1.0 


I.I 


1.25 


■^  Ki2    12.2 
^   U£    12.0 


WUk^ 


1.4 


mm 


VQ 


^> 


Photogr^hic 

Sciences 

Corporation 


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(716)  872-4503 


o 


874 


ISTHMIANA. 


through  the  deep  mud  than  my  horse  eould  do. 
This  was  the  Camerio  Real,  and,  like  royalty 
iu  America,  it  was  in  decay.  I  endeavored  to 
indoctrinate  Jos6  with  a  respect  for  iiiterwal  im- 
prove men  ta,  should  he  ever  be  a  man  in  power. 
About  three  o'clock  I  rode  into  the  muddty  village 
of  Capeira^  and  asked  lodging  at  the  best  house 
I  could  find.  Victor  Fernandez,  my  liost,  was  a 
gentleman,  and  his  housekeeper  prepared  me  an 
admiral)le  meal  of  things  I  sent  out  to  buy.  Pan- 
thers were  very  abundant,  and  Fernandez  had 
himself  offered  a  bounty  on  their  heads,  which 
had  produced  seven.  ^ 

The  next  day  was  a  weary  one.  Even  in  the 
worst  spots  of  the  Gruces  Road  I  had  never 
seen  anything  to  compare  with  the  profound 
mud  and  the  slippery  stones  that  my  beaten 
horse  had  to  pass.  I  had  still  maintained  that 
the  hill-side  above  the  entrance  of  the  pass  of 
Tliermopylae  was  the  worst  bit  of  road  in  the 
world,  but  now  I  yielded.  There  were  alleys, 
too,  worn  in  the  clay  soil  by  torrents  of  rain. 
From  one,  on  entering  alone,  I  couM  extricate 
myself  only  by  digging  my  hands  deep  in  the 
side  and  allowing  my  horse  to  pass  out  under 
me,  while  I  hung  suspended.  Tlie  rascal,  who 
had  seemed  utterly  exhausted,  tried  to  escape  ; 
but  fortunately  I  was  behind  and  Josd  before  ia 
the  alley,  and  he  was  again  mounted  te  be  again^ 


'•«*y^,. 


THE  FUNCION. 


375 


belabored.  At  last  all  our  troubles  ended  ;  tlio 
forest  was  passed,  no  more  mud,  no  more  stones, 
but  again  a  beautiful  Llano,  with  its  amphi- 
theatre of  distant  mountains.  The  Lu  Chorrera, 
famed  for  its  beautiful  girls,  received  me,  and 
in  the  house  of  the  priest,  my  hammock  slung  in 
the  breeze,  I  saw  Bungo  limp  off,  with  worn 
hoofs  and  battered  knees,  to  repose  upon  tho 
grass.  I  rested.  They  gave  me  a  supper  in  the 
style  of  the  country,  with  a  capital  dish  of  rice, 
sprinkled  with  small  crabs,  and  highly  seasoned 
with  ahi. 

On  the  evening  of  the  next  day  I  rode  down 
to  the  landing,  over  a  beautiful,  undulating 
country,  and  when  the  tide  rose  enough  to 
cover  the  roots  of  the  mangroves,  I  embarked 
in,  not  on,  a  bungo,  and  by  the  soft  moonlight 
was  wafted  along  among  small  islands,  till  dawn 
and  the  freshening  breeze  wafted  me  back  to  the 
semi-Americanized  life  of  Panama.  I  had  seen 
and  loved  the  pastoral  life  of  the  tropics,  and  I 
sighed  as  I  looked  down  upon  the  hay  once 
more,  though  soon  my  unreal  life  upon  its 
shores  was  to  terminate.  And  without  regret  I 
returned  from  the  dreamy  Pacific  to  the  restless, 
burdened  waves  of  the  Atlantic  Sea. 


Cambridge  t   Stereotyped  and  Frinted  by  Welch,  Bigeluw,  ft  Co. 


